Hillwood Medical
by Arnold Summers
Summary: Medical drama set in Hillwood Memorial Hospital, with your favorite Hey Arnold characters as doctors. Inspired by 2 of my favorite series, Hey Arnold and ER.
1. 12 Hours

Hillwood Medical

Disclaimer: don't own Hey Arnold or ER, the inspirations behind this story. Nickelodeon and NBC do.

This is my first fan-fic. I will try to be as accurate as possible with the medical terminology but please don't be mad if it's not 100 correct. This fan-fic will be written as individual episodes which have a general continuity but will each have its own subplot, like a TV series.

Episode 1: 12 Hours

He always enjoyed the walk from his apartment to the hospital. It was a chance for him to clear his mind, to relax before the day became too hectic.

Sometimes, he would pause and gaze at the sights of the city. So much had changed and yet there was a part of it that still remained the same place he knew as a 9 year old kid. Kids were still playing sports on GeraldField. The same stores were still open. Hillwood managed to have enough amenities from the bigger cities while still retaining its small town appeal.

He had changed as much as his city. He was taller now and his head wasn't as odd-shaped as before. His blond hair was closely cropped and he wore rimless glasses due to hours spent reading textbooks with very fine print. The boyish optimism and compassion that a certain someone had appreciated so much was still present but tempered by experience.

It was 5 years ago that he returned for his grand-father's funeral. His grand-mother had passed away from cancer a year ago. She left peacefully, her last words being how happy she would be now that she could shoot spitballs at Phil again.

He had just completed his residency at the Yale Medical Center and was looking for a job. His wife had just given birth to a little boy and they decided that they wanted him to grow up in their hometown. She was studying for the bar-exam and he was accepted as the senior attending physician at Hillwood Memorial. Life was certainly looking good at this point.

A gust of cold wind snapped him out of his reverie and he shivered, pulling his coat tighter. He quickened his pace as he could see that he was near the hospital. Hillwood Memorial was a real marvel. Always overcrowded and often understaffed, it still managed to provide quality healthcare for the community.

He noticed that the ER was quiet and the few residents and nurses were dozing off, trying to catch any sleep that they could get.

"Hey, no rest for the weary," he said jokingly, snapping his fingers at the tired nurse at the admit desk.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. Greene."

He smiled and waved it off.

"Just giving you a hard time, Sheena. Why don't you head off now, Nadine should be here any minute."

"You've already made my day."

"Glad to be of help."

He continued walking until he reached the locker room. As he entered, he noticed that someone was already hard at work filling out next month's schedule.

"Always early, eh, Phoebe?"

"Well, we can't expect these timesheets to fill themselves out now, can we?"

He chuckled at her remark. Phoebe had also changed since their childhood. She let her hair fall down to her shoulders and replaced her glasses with contacts. She also acquired a greater sense of confidence while still preserving the loyalty and intelligence that made her who she was. That's comes with the job of being chief of emergency medicine.

"Gerald still asleep?" he asked while changing into his scrubs.

"Snoring away."

"Hey, who says I snore?" retorted a voice from the doorway growing closer.

"You do, honey," laughed Phoebe as Gerald playfully tickled her. He kissed the top of her head and did his secret hand-shake with Arnold. He was a trauma surgeon and somewhat of a flamboyant character, combining the cool bravado of someone who helped others cheats death with quiet intensity and humility.

Arnold sipped his coffee and smiled at their intimacy. It had been a while since he and his wife could share a simple pleasure like that; they were always on the run and their paths hardly ever crossed.

"Dr. Greene?"

"Yeah."

"4 year old girl complaining of ear pain, running a temperature of 102."

"Ok, I'm on it."

He followed Nadine into Exam Room 1. Inside was a visibly nervous brown-haired girl sitting on the examining bed while her mother was trying to comfort her. He knelt down so that he and the girl were on the same level.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Greene. What's your name?"

"Haley."

"Well, Haley, it looks like you've got yourself a little ear infection."

"Am I going to die?" Haley asked seriously.

"Haley!" snapped the mother.

"It's all right", smiled Arnold understandingly. "You're not going to die; in fact you're going to make these germs wish they never came near you." He turned to Nadine, "Why don't you give her some Tylenol for the fever and I'll write up a prescription for amoxicillin, 80 mg per day for 10 days." Nadine nodded and left to get the Tylenol.

Arnold turned to the little girl and smiled as he wrote the prescription. "You know that you're named after a famous comet right?" The little girl nodded her head. "Well, if you take this medicine, you'll be able to see that comet the next time it comes around." The mother smiled looked at him with a grateful glance. "Just give this to Nadine when she comes back, and you're all set. Nice to meet you Haley."

As he left the exam room, he nearly collided into a short, stout, and balding man also clad in scrubs and a white lab coat.

"Watch it, Greene!"

"Sorry, Vince."

Vincent Wartz shook his head in disgust and stormed off. He was the spitting image of his father, the former principal of P.S. 118. As the chief trauma surgeon and a member of the hospital's board of directors, he wielded tremendous authority and wasn't afraid to use it.

"Phoebe!"

She looked up from her schedule and reacted quickly to catch a large manila envelope thrown at her face.

"Here's the CV of a new trauma surgeon who'll be flying in tomorrow morning. Read it over, pick her up at the airport, take her out to dinner, you know, all that stuff."

"Isn't this technically under your domain Vince?"

"It's your ER, unless you want me to make that under my domain."

Phoebe sighed, "Ok, Vince, I'll see what I can do."

"Good. Oh, there's an old man waiting in room 2 complaining of abdominal pain." With that, he turned around and walked off as quickly as he had come. Gerald rolled his eyes, but they were used to Wartz's act.

"Debbie? I was wondering if you would accompany me to exam room 2." The nurse nodded affirmatively.

Phoebe grabbed the chart and entered the room. "Mr. Potemikin?" she asked quietly, "I'm Dr. Heyerdahl. I heard that you have quite a bellyache." The old man growled and turned his nose up. His son tried to reassure him with a pat on the shoulder.

"I've been waiting here for almost half an hour and no one even bothered to come see me."

"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Potemikin but as you can see we are a bit understaffed."

"Bah, I remember when doctors made house calls. Now all you care about is the money and we the patients suffer."

"Dad, please. Just let Dr. Heyerdahl do her job."

"She is not God, none of them are."

Phoebe remained silent throughout the exchange. Mr. Potemikin had a point; too many doctors were arrogant to the point of dismissing patient concerns as trivial.

"Now, Mr. Potemikin, can you tell me where the pain is exactly?"

"Bah, I don't need this. Ivan, we're going home; it's just a stomach ache."

"Dad." Turning to Phoebe, "It's on his lower right side of his stomach."

"Any fever?"

"Yes, a mild one."

"How long has he had this pain?"

"It's been about 3 hours."

"I'm telling you, it was the borscht."

"Hmm, Mr. Potemikin, it looks like you have a case of appendicitis. I'm going to recommend an ultrasound to make sure, but most likely, we'll have to remove that appendix."

Phoebe turned to Debbie, "Why don't you call radiology and get him in for an abdominal x-ray also? I'll let you handle the ultrasound, but I think it's a safe bet to let the OR know that they have another patient coming in." As Debbie left to make the call, she turned to Mr. Potemikin.

"You're going to be all right. It's a very routine procedure and you should be out of the hospital within 1 or 2 days." He grumbled, but Phoebe cut in, "You know when you're out, I'd really like to try your borscht." She smiled and the son chuckled at his father's surprised expression at those words. "Thank you Dr. Heyerdahl." She nodded her head and quietly walked out.

"You got a grumpy one?" Arnold said, smiling, as he fell into step.

"Yeah, but I kind of like the grumpy ones. They're good for variety."

Their conversation was broken up when paramedics wheeled in a teenager who looked as if he had been playing baseball. He was unconscious and hemorrhaging badly from the skull. Following the EMT's was a visibly shaken older man also dressed in a baseball uniform.

"What do we have?"

"14 year old pitcher took a baseball right to the head, decreasing level of consciousness."

Arnold shined a pen-light into the boy's eyes. "Pupils dilated, we need to intubate."

On cue, Gerald appeared, tilted the boy's head back, and inserted the breathing tube. "Ok, let's give him 20 ccs of lidocaine for the ICP," he barked. "CT scan to check for any brain damage. Let's move it people."

"Excuse me, is my grandson going to be all right? Please, you've got to let me know."

"Sir, we won't know if he has any brain damage until after the CT scans. He might have to undergo surgery to reduce the swelling inside his skull. We'll let you know." With that, Gerald, Nadine, and 2 orderlies wheeled the boy into the elevator.

Arnold turned to the old man who wore an ashen expression.

"How about we talk in the waiting room?" The man nodded and they walked slowly, wordlessly to the empty seats. Arnold poured 2 cups of coffee for them and sat next to him. The old man held his head in his hands and started breaking down.

"This was all my fault; he said he wanted to be taken out, said that his arm wasn't feeling as strong and he was losing some zip on his fast-ball. I told him to suck it up and just get out of the inning. I still remember that pitch; the ball seemed to hang in the strike zone for an eternity and the sound of the ball hitting his head; God I don't think I'll ever forget that." His words started fading into sobs; Arnold put his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"This could have happened to anyone anytime. It was a freak accident, and you can't blame yourself."

"Yes, I can. I've been a coach all my life. I've coached everything from basketball to bowling, even synchronized swimming. I should know when a player needs to leave the game. But I was too proud; I wanted my grandson to throw a no-hitter and look what happened."

At the words "synchronized swimming", Arnold raised an eyebrow. It couldn't be, could it?

"Coach Wittenberg?"

The old man looked up, a bit confused.

"Coach Wittenberg, it's me, Arnold. You coached us in basketball, bowling, and synchronized swimming. I was best man at your second wedding with Tish." The old man's eyes lit up at the mention of those memories.

"Arnold? Wow, you've sure grown up nicely. I never thought I'd see you back here."

"I wouldn't worry about your grandson; he's in good hands with Gerald Johanssen."

"That's Gerald? I guess I really haven't seen you guys in a long time. You kids turned out all-right. I guess I knew that when you guys learned synchronized swimming."

As he was talking, a white haired lady entered the room, eyes red from crying. Coach Wittenberg stood up and went over to her.

"Tish!" He hugged her tightly.

"Is he going to be ok? He's not going to die is he?" she said between sobs.

"I don't think so. We've got some good doctors here taking care of him." He winked at Arnold. Arnold smiled and quietly left them.

Gerald breathed a sigh of relief as he walked out of the elevator. The CT scans showed no permanent brain damage. Now, it was just a waiting game to see if the boy needed surgery to reduce the swelling.

"Hey, how'd they turn out?"

"No brain damage, thank god."

"That's the best news I've heard all day. You know that guy is Coach Wittenberg?"

"Really, synchronized swimming Wittenberg?"

"The one and the same."

"Well, this should be interesting." Gerald walked off towards the waiting room.

"Dr. Greene!" The voice bellowed from Troy, the burly desk clerk.

"What is it, Troy?"

"Your wife just called; she's going to be working late on some case; she says she's sorry and not to wait up for her."

Arnold sighed. It was going to be another one of those nights. "Ok, thanks, Troy." He didn't have time to feel sorry for himself though; there was an elderly woman in room 1 complaining of diarrhea.

"Mr. Potemikin?" Phoebe knocked gently on the door. He was now resting in recovery after a successful appendectomy. "It's me, Dr. Heyerdahl. I just wanted to see how you were doing." The old man grunted. "You should be able to leave the hospital as early as tomorrow. Just rest up." As she turned to leave, he coughed as he tried to speak.

"You, you come over for borscht anytime."

Phoebe smiled. "I might just take you up on that offer."

"So he's not going to need surgery?"

"Well, we're not sure yet Mrs. Wittenberg, we're going to keep him overnight for observation and let the medicine work. If the swelling decreases, then we won't need to operate. You're welcome to stay with him overnight in our guest quarters."

"Thanks, Dr. Johanssen." Gerald smiled and got up to leave when Coach Wittenberg spoke up.

"Gerald, I already told this to Arnold, but you two really turned out all right. Guess you didn't forget what I taught you in synchronized swimming." Gerald chuckled.

"Guess we didn't, Coach."

"Troy, I'm going to call it a day. Tell Phoebe I'll see her tomorrow." Arnold walked past the help desk into the locker-room. He removed his scrubs changed back into his regular clothes. "Tell the Wittenbergs good luck for me." Troy nodded and waved.

It was always a longer walk back. The night air was always colder and the walk was always longer when he knew that he would be sleeping alone that night. He sighed as he climbed the stairs up to his apartment.

"I'm home! Where are you short-man?"

"Hi, daddy!" A brown-haired little boy, no older than 6 with an oddly shaped head ran towards his father and leapt into his arms.

"I missed you too short-man. You eat dinner yet?"

"Yeah, Suzy came over and made spaghetti."

"Suzy?" A middle aged, blond haired woman emerged from the kitchen.

"Hey, Arnold, it's good to see you again."

"Suzy, we can't keep asking you to do this every time one of us is out."

"It's all right Arnold, I really don't mind. It gives me a chance to get away from Oskar for a while."

"You're a real saint, Suzy," laughed Arnold.

"There's some spaghetti and meatballs left in the kitchen and I also made a salad and some garlic bread."

"You've done too much. Please, let me give you something." Arnold took out his wallet. Suzy held up her hand.

"You know, that I couldn't accept anything. You and your grandparents have been so good to us. To all of us. So I better be going so that you can settle down. Bye, Sean!" Suzy picked up her coat and walked out the door.

Arnold smiled at Suzy's kindness. He hung up his coat and headed into the kitchen. He took a clean plate from the dish rack and filled it with the spaghetti and meat sauce, a piece of bread, and some salad. He poured himself a glass of water. Sean was still watching cartoons.

"You still hungry short-man?"

"Can I have some cookies then?"

"You can have an apple."

"Then, I'm not hungry."

Arnold laughed and sat down next to his son.

"You done all your homework?"

"Yeah, Suzy made sure I did before I could watch TV."

"What's on tonight?" Arnold asked between bites of his dinner.

"Spiderman."

"I like Spiderman." As he turned towards the TV, his eyes caught a small photograph on the mantel. It was a picture of the three of them at the cheese fair. Sean was three when it was taken. She wore her hair in pigtails just the way she did when they were nine, when he first "like-liked" her.

"Daddy?" Sean looked at his father intently. Arnold shook his head.

"Sorry, just daydreaming. Let's watch Spiderman."

Phoebe sat in bed holding the manila folder Wartz had gave her.

"Hey, I thought we didn't bring our work home." Gerald slid in and kissed her hair.

"I never got to look at it earlier."

"Can't you just read it tomorrow?"

"She's coming in tomorrow morning."

"Oh." Gerald paused. "You think she's hot?"

"Gerald!"

"Sorry, sorry." Phoebe shook her head in mock disgust and opened the envelope. When she saw the name, her eyes widened and she looked closer to see if she was seeing it correctly.

"Oh, my."

"What?" Gerald asked. Phoebe handed him the envelope. His eyes widened as well.

"Oh, my."


	2. You can come home again

Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed. I appreciate your criticism, advice, and praise. I'll try to do better as this series continues. Also, I don't own Hey Arnold or ER; Nickelodeon and NBC do.

Hillwood Medical

Episode 2: You can come home again.

"Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold! Hey Arnold!"

Arnold smashed his alarm clock and groaned. He didn't know why he kept that crazy clock sometimes.

It was 9 AM. He had overslept. He rolled out of bed and stretched. Sean was going to be late for school, and it was his fault.

"Sean, get up! You over-slept!" There was no answer. Arnold lumbered towards his son's room and knocked on the door. "Short-man?" He opened the door and was shocked at what he saw. The bed was made and his action figures were put away.

"You know, you're not the only one who can fix him breakfast and change his clothes."

Arnold looked up and blinked at what he saw. Standing before him was a tall, taut woman with long brown hair and smooth skin, clad in a green bath-robe.

"I must be dreaming."

"Why?"

"You're actually here."

"I came back at midnight. You and Sean were sleeping like rocks."

"Still working on the asbestos case?"

"Yeah, I think we're going to nail this one."

"That's good," Arnold yawned.

"You're tired, Dr. Greene." She slunk over towards him wearing a seductive smile. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him deeply.

"I think you need to go back to bed."

"I think I do too." With that, she led him back to their bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"I can't believe it's her."

"Neither can I, honey."

"Of all people, it had to be her."

"Gerald!"

"Sorry! Hey, maybe she's changed."

"Of course she has. She wasn't that bad in the first place."

"Uh-huh."

"Just give her a chance."

"Ok, babe, just for you though." He kissed her gently as they waited at the baggage claim area.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Delta Airlines would like to welcome the arrival of Delta Flight 1288 from London. Passengers can pick up their luggage on Baggage Claim D."

"Well, that means that she's here."

"I wonder how we'll be able to tell which one she is."

"Oh, I think we'll be able to tell."

"It's been almost 7 years, Pheebs."

"Trust me, we'll just know."

"You mean you'll know and I won't."

"Exactly."

They scanned the passengers walking down the escalator. They saw old couples, teenagers on their first flight, businessmen returning from "working vacations" but no one who could possibly be her. Gerald sighed in frustration and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly, his eyes shifted towards one of the last passengers walking down the escalator.

"Pheebs, look!"

They both focused on a woman wearing a long black overcoat. Her tall, slender figure was complemented by long, flowing, blond hair that reached her shoulders. Her facial features were sharp but had a distinct, hidden softness underneath.

"Is that?"

"I think so." Phoebe ran towards the woman followed closely by Gerald.

"Helga!"

The woman raised an eyebrow, somewhat confused.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Helga, it's me Phoebe! Dr. Wartz sent us here to pick you up."

"Pheebs! Wow, you look incredible! I never could have guessed it was you."

"I could say the same for you, Helga." The two women embraced happily. Gerald smiled as he watched the reunion between the two childhood friends. Phoebe stepped back and gestured towards him.

"You remember, Gerald?" Helga stared intently.

"What happened to the tall hair?"

"The same thing that happened to your eyebrow." They both laughed, and shook hands.

"It's been a long time, Helga; almost too long."

"We have so much catching up to do," Phoebe interjected.

Gerald's cell-phone chimed and he checked his text message.

"Well, if you'll excuse me ladies. I just remembered that I have a prior engagement at the racquetball court. I'll see you both tonight." He gave a quick kiss to Phoebe and headed towards the exit.

"Come on, Helga, I'll help you with your bags."

"Thanks, Pheebs."

"Do you have anything else coming in the mail?"

"Yeah, but I'll take care of that later. I need to drop this stuff off at the apartment I'm renting."

"Ok, once we do that, how about we have coffee?"

Arnold bounced the racquetball impatiently. It wasn't like Gerald to be late for their weekly game.

"Sorry, man." Gerald sprinted toward the court.

"I thought you chickened out."

"Are you kidding? I was just talking to Phoebe."

"Oh? Didn't she go to pick up the new trauma surgeon?"

"Yeah."

"Know anything about her?"

"Like what?"

"Is she good looking? How long has she been practicing? Where did she practice? That sort of stuff."

"Wait a sec; you shouldn't care how she looks. You are happy with what you've got, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah; when she's there." Arnold smiled sadly. Gerald gave a sympathetic grin.

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised when you see her." He smashed the ball into the front corner.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, get ready to lose." Arnold chuckled. He picked up the ball, bounced it a few times, and tossed it gently, letting it bounce once. He wound up and...

BAM!

The loud sound of Wartz's mug violated the tense silence in the room.

"You know, Larry; I cannot believe that you would even suggest that."

"Vince, you know that we're in a bit of a crunch right now."

"Then try cutting something else, like your own salary."

"Vince."

"Ok, I'm sorry. But I am not going to let you insult my doctors by proposing this budget cut."

"It's going to be temporary, Vince. We just need to weather the storm for a while."

"I don't know how I'm going to tell them."

"Why did you stop the e-mails, Helga?" They were sitting in a corner table at the local Starbuck's.

Helga sighed, as she stirred her coffee.

"I don't really know Pheebs. I guess I got busy. I guess I wanted to start over and forget about Hillwood and the rest of you guys. I guess I didn't really want to hear about how happy your lives were and keep telling you how mine wasn't up to par." Phoebe sipped her coffee and listened intently.

"I don't understand, Helga; you graduated from Brown; you went to Columbia and graduated near the top of your class; you met a great guy in Julian. You were doing ok." At the mention of Julian, Helga smirked.

"The only thing that Julian was in love with was his research. He would spend hours at the lab doing his work and then come back expecting me to nurse his wounds. That's all I ever was to him; a cheer-leader."

Phoebe nodded sympathetically.

"I mean, the whole reason I moved to England was to show him that I was ready and willing to make sacrifices for him. These researchers live in their own sterile intellectual heaven; they don't like dealing with dirty things like people." At that remark, Phoebe chuckled.

"Still the poet, eh, Helga?"

"Just occasionally. It doesn't pay the bills."

"Still write poetry about... ice-cream?" At that word Helga shuddered.

"No, of course not."

"Helga."

"Look, Pheebs that was a long time ago. I loved him when I was 9. I still liked him in high school, but he was ogling over Lila the whole time. You learn to move on."

"You never forget your first love, Helga. You can never fully get over someone you loved; they take a piece of you with them whether you like it or not."

"You're right about that, Pheebs."

"About what?"

"He took a big piece of me."

Arnold hummed an old Dino Spumoni tune as he breezed through the kitchen. He checked the chicken periodically. He wanted to make sure this meal was perfect; it would be the first meal they had shared as a family in a long time.

"Hey, daddy!" Sean opened the door and threw his coat on the couch.

"Hey there, short-man." He went over and hugged his son.

"What's that smell?"

"Just some chicken roasting in the oven. Mom's eating dinner with us tonight."

"That's great!"

"I know. You got a lot of homework short-man?"

"Just a little. It's all spelling and arithmetic."

"2 of my favorite subjects. Why don't you get started on it and then you can watch some TV when you're done?

"Ok." Sean was about to run to his room when the phone rang.

"I'll get it." The little boy raced towards the phone.

"Hello. Hi, mommy. Yeah, he's right here." He handed the phone to his father and ran to his room.

"Hey hon. Yeah. Yeah, I know. But you promised. Ok, I know things like that can happen. I'm not mad. Ok, I love you too." Arnold sighed as he hung up the phone.

"Daddy?" Sean stepped outside.

"That was mommy, short-man. She can't make it to dinner. The trial is lasting longer than she expected and they need to prep more material." The little boy's face sunk. It wasn't fair.

"Hey, short-man? Is Spiderman on at this time?" The boy's face brightened a bit.

"I think so." Arnold turned on the TV.

"So how is she?" Gerald and Phoebe walked into the ER together.

"She's a real swan. Mature, poised, beautiful. And yet, the same old Helga underneath."

"Let me guess. All that internal anguish, still bottled up like you told me before?"

"Exactly."

"Phoebe, Gerald." Wartz's bark interrupted their conversation.

"What is it Vince?" Gerald was a bit annoyed at the interruption.

"I just wanted to say that we're going to have to run a tighter ship here. The top brass is shortening the string."

"Oh, you can't be serious? We're already barely making it on what we're given now."

"Look, Phoebe, you think I didn't voice that opinion? I'm just one voice. They already think that I'm not objective because I do trauma. So we can cry about it or we can adapt. This is a crisis. Deal with it." Wartz stormed off, cursing under his breath.

"What's with the long faces?" Arnold walked into the locker-room and changed into his scrubs.

"Wartz says the top brass decided our budget wasn't small enough." Arnold rolled his eyes.

"I think Larry and the rest of those directors need to change out of their suits and into some scrubs before they start making these decisions." The three of them shared a laugh. Arnold and Gerald did their secret handshake and walked into the lobby.

"Dr. Greene? There's a man in curtain area 2 whose son fell from the stairs."

"Ok, thanks Sheena." He followed her into the room and was faced with a little boy, no older than his son's age sitting on the bed next to his father.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Greene." The child looked up but didn't say anything. "What happened exactly?" The father, a big burly man, spoke up.

"He was running down the stairs; I always told him not to run, but kids today don't listen. He slipped on some toys he had at the top and crashed all the way down the stairs. I brought him here to make sure he didn't have anything broken." Arnold stared carefully at the boy. He was holding his chest painfully and his breathing was shallow. He frowned when he noticed some bruises near his ears and above his cheek-bones.

"Well, sir, I think we need to take him up to x-ray and see if anything is broken. It looks like he might have some broken ribs, but I want to make sure. In the mean time, sir, you can sit in the waiting room until we hear from radiology." The man nodded and left. Arnold turned to Sheena and motioned her to come closer. He whispered something in her ear. She gave him a skeptical look.

"You've got to trust me on this one; those bruises shouldn't be there if he landed on his chest." She nodded. Arnold turned to the boy.

"Ok, kiddo, just go with Sheena and she'll take you to radiology. We're going to see what happened to those ribs."

"What do we have?" The blond haired surgeon ran alongside the EMT.

"16 year old, was in a high speed MVC, minimal consciousness, extreme hemorrhaging from the chest."

"She's going into shock." Debbie interjected, running alongside.

"Crimeny; let's get an IV into him. Keep the SBP near 90; anything higher will rupture the formed clots. I want a Chest CT; call cardiology and tell them to get someone over here."

"Cardiology is booked."

"Ok, then we'll do it ourselves."

"I can't believe you weren't going to let me have any fun." Gerald appeared beside Helga.

"Well, you came just in time then."

Phoebe walked into the guest quarters where the Wittenbergs were staying. A baseball game was playing on TV in the background, and he was pacing nervously while she sat with her head in her hands.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wittenberg?" They looked up expectantly.

"I'm Dr. Heyerdahl. I believe your grandson checked in yesterday."

"Yes, how is he?"

"Well, I just got a report from ICU. He's still sleeping but it looks like the swelling has subsided. He won't be needing surgery. You can see him now." At these words, the old couple embraced. Coach Wittenberg shook Phoebe's hand, and his wife grabbed her in a surprise hug.

"Thank you so much; you don't know how much this means to us." They walked quickly to the elevator.

Phoebe smiled. Small victories made all the difference.

Arnold squinted at the x-rays. There were 2 hairline fractures along the ribs. The bruises bothered him the most. He sighed and walked into the room.

"Ok, kiddo, it looks like you've got some small fractures on your ribs. I'm going to give you some Tylenol for the pain. Put some ice on it everyday. Does it hurt when you breathe?" The boy timidly nodded his head. He still hadn't said much ever since he had arrived.

"Ok, you still need to take deep breaths. Take a pillow and hug it around your chest when you breathe. Like this." Arnold demonstrated for the boy. He nodded his head to show he understood. Arnold sat on the bed beside him.

"Hey, kiddo, you never told me your name." The boy looked at him but still remained silent.

"My name's Arnold. What's yours?" Arnold smiled kindly at the boy.

"Timothy." The boy barely whispered.

"Ok, Timothy, how did you get those bruises?" Arnold pointed at the bruises on the boy's ears and cheek. Timothy remained silent.

"They weren't from falling down the stairs were they? Neither were those broken ribs." The boy looked at Arnold, tears forming in his eyes.

"You can talk to me Timothy; your father is in the waiting room."

"He's, he's not my father. Not my real one."

"Ok."

"He hits me, calls me names. He hits my mommy too."

"Dr. Greene?" A petite black haired woman peeked into the curtain. Arnold went over and she whispered something in his ears. Arnold nodded and they re-entered the room.

"Timothy, this is Maria, from child-protective services. Why don't you tell her what you told me?"

"No!" The little boy cried.

"Timothy, it's going to be ok. We're going to make sure you're safe." Maria knelt down to the boy.

"No, I don't want my mom to stay with him. I have to protect her."

"Excuse me, what is going on here." Timothy's father had entered the room, pulling open the curtain.

"Sir, my name is Maria Hernandez and I'm with child-protective services." The man raised an eye at the last words.

"Child protective services? I don't know what this is about; all Timmy had here was some injuries from falling from the stairs."

"Sir, we have reason to believe that Timothy has been suffering from physical abuse at home."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Who made that call?"

"I did." Arnold stepped into the conversation. The man spun around and looked furiously at him.

"Wait a sec, doc, you're saying I beat up my kid?"

"Timothy's injuries are consistent with typical child-abuse cases. Unusual bruising to the ears and face. Timidity and low-self esteem. A sense of withdrawn behavior." The man took a step towards Arnold.

"Now, you listen doc, your job here is to make sure my boy gets better; not to make judgment calls on how I raise my kid."

"Sir, I have a legal obligation to report any cases of suspected abuse."

"You really think I would hit my kid?" He took another step towards Arnold.

"Well, sir, from the way you are reacting towards me, I wouldn't be so surprised."

"You son of a..." He swung hard with his right hand at Arnold's head, but Arnold parried it deftly with his left palm shifting his momentum towards the left and exposing his right side. He hit the man's ribs with a flurry of punches causing him to wheeze and gasp for air. He collapsed to his knees, and crumbled to the ground.

The ER was speechless. The nurses and clerks froze in their places. Arnold backed away, stunned at his response. Troy walked over, shaking his head.

"Well, it looks like we have a new patient."

She threw away the bloody latex gloves and wiped the sweat off her brow, breathing a heavy sigh. As she left the trauma room she ran into Debbie.

"The girl's parents are waiting outside, Dr. Pataki."

"Ok, thanks Debbie." She walked quickly into the waiting room and found them sitting next to the magazines.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Pataki." The woman looked up and smiled weakly.

"How is she, doctor?"

"She suffered massive a massive aortic rupture and valvular damage. We were able to repair the damage, but she's still in critical condition. At this point, all we can do is wait." The woman nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Pataki." Helga nodded, and walked off towards the locker-room. As she was about to enter, she heard an angry voice coming from inside. She quickly slipped to one side and listened.

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking, Greene."

"I didn't mean to hurt him that badly; it was just instincts."

"I don't care what you meant. The means don't matter."

"It was in self-defense. There are plenty of witnesses who will vouch for me."

"Of course, they'll vouch for you. They see a hero who punched out some guy who beat up his kid. You know what I see? A lawsuit. I see it coming out from your salary."

"Fine, then, Vince. You can take as much of my salary as you want!" Arnold stormed out of the locker-room and walked past Helga without even looking. Helga entered the locker-room and put on her coat.

"What happened?"

"Oh, Dr. Greene decided to play hero tonight." Wartz shook his head.

"By the way, how'd that girl turn out?"

"She's in critical but stable condition." He nodded approvingly.

"You know, Helga, I think you're going to fit right in. Good night."

Helga walked out of the ER, still stunned at Arnold's actions. She had never seen him react violently towards anyone, regardless of how bad they were. Had he really changed that much? Why did she still care?

She shook her head quickly, clearing those thoughts. She walked faster, not looking up until she passed the park. And there he was.

He was standing behind one of the benches, gazing at the sky. She steadied herself with a deep breath and walked over beside him.

"Walking alone tonight, Dr. Greene?"

"Yeah, just admiring how nice the park looks at 4 AM." He spoke lazily, still gazing at the sky.

"That must have been some punch you threw back there. Ol'Betsy couldn't have done much better."

"Yeah, well, it didn't win me any praise from...Ol'Betsy?" Arnold turned around with a surprised look and stared at the blond-haired surgeon smiling shyly at him.

"H-Helga?"

"Who, else football-head?" He stared at her, transfixed at how much she'd changed.

"What are you doing here? And, when did you come in?"

"I guess, no one told you; I'm the new trauma surgeon." Arnold smiled.

"I guess Gerald was right that I'd be pleasantly surprised when I met the new surgeon. And besides, you're the best looking thing a person could see at 4 AM," he added slyly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Helga asked in mock annoyance, punching him on the shoulder, laughing.

"You look good, Helga." He gazed at her intently. It took all her effort not to melt under his stare.

"You too, football-head."

"My head's not that football-shaped anymore, is it?" Helga chuckled.

"No, but you'll always be football-head to me."

"That's fine." Silence fell between them as they walked.

"You know, I missed you, Helga."

"Really?"

"Of course. We were friends for a long time. I always wondered what happened to you."

"Well, my life hasn't been perfect like Gerald and Phoebe's. I wasted a couple of years with a research scientist in London who spent more time with cancer infected mice than he did with me." Arnold chuckled.

"Yeah, it can get addicting. I used to do that over the summer when I was an undergrad."

"What about you? Are you and Lila still together?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're married now." He paused and sighed. "If you even want to call it that."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess we just haven't really had time for each other lately. She and a couple of partners in her firm are suing some company over asbestos. We've got a six-year old who saw his mom at most, once a day."

"So what you're telling me is that there's trouble in paradise?" He smiled. He always enjoyed her wit.

"Fair enough."

They stopped in front of a tall, aging apartment building. Arnold spoke first.

"Well, I guess this is my stop."

"Really, then you can walk me up to my room."

"It would be an honor. I'm on the fifth floor if you ever need me." They walked in silence up three flights of stairs.

"Well, my place is here."

"Need help unpacking?"

"Maybe tomorrow." They stood outside Helga's door like a couple on their first date not really knowing what to do. Arnold raised his hand and brushed back a strand of hair on Helga's face. Their eyes met.

"Goodnight, Dr. Pataki." Arnold turned around and continued walking slowly up the stairwell leaving Helga with some confused thoughts.


	3. The People You Think You Know

Author's note: Thanks again to those who reviewed. I appreciate your input. I don't own anything but this story.

Episode 3: The People You Think You Know

"Martin Goldberg. Time of death: 12:34 a.m. Cause of death: Renal Failure. Pronounced by Dr. Vincent Wartz at Hillwood Memorial."

He sighed as he finished the last dictation. He hadn't spent this much time in the ER ever since he accepted that position in the board of directors 3 years ago. And yet, it felt nice to be garbed in scrubs rather than a stuffy suit and tie. Well, he thought to himself, better not get too used to this.

"Gerald?" Phoebe walked behind him and put her arms around him.

"Yeah."

"You know what today is?"

"Thursday," he replied not even looking up from his paper.

"Gerald." Phoebe's voice rose slightly.

"Mmhmm."

"Honestly, Gerald." Phoebe stood up to leave.

"I know what today is, Pheebs." She froze in mid-stance.

"Really."

"I already made the reservations a week ago." He turned to her grinning.

"Oh, Gerald." She laughed and kissed him.

Arnold forced himself to get out of bed before his alarm clock could go off. He noticed that Lila's side of the bed was already made. She had probably left early for work. Again.

He wandered into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He splashed some cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and cleaned his glasses. He glanced at the clock; it was almost time for Sean to wake up.

"Hey, short-man. You better wake up." Arnold entered his son's room. Sean was still fast asleep. Arnold gently shook his son.

"Short-man, you've got school today." Sean mumbled and turned over to the other side.

"We don't have school today, daddy."

"Why's that short-man?"

"Parent-teacher conference." Arnold frowned.

"I didn't know about this, short-man. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"You never asked me."

"Short-man, you should tell me about important things like this."

"I put it on a magnet on the refrigerator. I was going to tell you, but I forgot."

"Ok, but next time, tell me. Even if you have to call me when I'm at work. You can leave a message with one of the clerks. Ok?"

"Ok, daddy." Arnold kissed his son's forehead.

"Get some sleep." He left his son and headed towards the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a small piece of paper on the refrigerator. He studied it carefully. He put it in his pocket and called the hospital.

"Hey, Troy? It's Dr. Greene. Yeah. Yeah, could you just tell Phoebe when she comes in that I'm taking my day off today instead of next week. Turns out I've got this parent- teacher conference I have to attend. Ok, thanks." He hung up the phone and poured some cereal for himself and Sean.

"Dr. Heyerdahl, Dr, Greene just called; says he's taking his day off today for some school conference about his kid."

"Well, I certainly appreciate the early notice. I already gave Helga the day off to unpack. Why don't you give Wartz a call; I'm sure he's itching to see if he can still fit into his scrubs."

"You're joking right? You really want Wartz here?"

"I wish I were." Phoebe threw away some junk mail and stepped out from behind the admit-desk.

"Dr. Heyerdahl." Nadine walked beside Phoebe.

"Yes."

"There's a man in exam room 2 complaining about of flu-like symptoms."

"Ok thanks, Nadine." Phoebe opened the curtain and found two middle aged men in the middle of a somewhat heated dispute.

"Robert, I don't know why you dragged me here; I told you it's just a cold."

"You've been like this for a while, Daniel. I'm getting concerned."

"I told you, it's getting better each day."

"No, it's not, Daniel."

"Excuse me." The two men looked up at Phoebe.

"Daniel, why don't you tell the doctor how you've been feeling?

"I'm telling you, Robert, I'm not that sick." Phoebe decided that it was time to interrupt.

"Ok, Daniel, why don't you tell me what's wrong?" Robert spoke up.

"He's got a fever, a sore throat, headaches, and he has this special-looking rash."

"Robert!"

"Hmm." Phoebe rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "These are consistent with flu-like symptoms, although it's a bit early for the flu. I can prescribe you some antibiotics which should clear up the virus. I am a little curious about this rash, however."

"It's just a rash." Daniel was becoming quite agitated.

"Daniel, would you be willing to undergo a blood test?"

"Why?"

"Just a pre-caution. I want to make sure that this isn't a fungal or bacterial infection.

"Fine." Daniel rolled up his sleeve and Phoebe drew some blood into the syringe.

"Ok Daniel, we should have the results within an hour." Phoebe and Nadine walked out. She pulled Nadine aside.

"Nadine, something's not right about that man's symptoms. There should not be a rash present with flu."

"What are you thinking?"

"Tell Path that I want a Dot-blot immunobinding assay for the presence of HIV antibodies. Also, tell them to run the new Oraquick test."

"Are you sure, Dr. Heyerdahl?"

"It's just a hunch. I hope I'm wrong." Phoebe turned around and walked back to the exam room.

Vincent Wartz stormed into the ER. He wasn't too pleased about having to work too early. This was just an additional burden added on to the daily board meetings. He sipped his coffee and added his name to the marker-board schedule.

"Troy, where are Greene and Pataki?"

"Well, Dr. Greene is taking his day off today so he can go to some school conference for his kid. Dr. Heyerdahl gave Dr. Pataki the day off so she could unpack."

"Oh, that was brilliant." Wartz snorted in disgust.

"Please, can we get a doctor?" The voice came from a young man who was supporting an older man by the shoulder. Both men were dressed in black robes and were wearing skull caps. The older man's robes were stained with what appeared to be vomit. Wartz walked over quickly.

"What's the problem?"

"He vomited during the morning prayer."

"Is that all?"

"No," continued the young man. "He has been complaining of abdominal pain, fatigue, and a strange taste in his mouth. He could barely make it through the service."

"What kind of taste is it, sir?" The old man spoke up.

"It tastes like metal." Wartz's eyes lit up at the description.

"Sir, you could be experiencing acute renal failure; we need to get you checked in ASAP. He put the man's other arm around his shoulder and helped carry him into exam room 1.

Helga sipped her coffee as she thumbed through the newspaper. It was nice of Phoebe to give her the day off to unpack. Right now, she was trying to procrastinate as long as possible until she would actually have to start working. However, her procrastination was interrupted by 2 loud knocks on her door.

"Crimeny, who could be here at 10 A.M.?" She marched over to the door and flung it open.

"Arnold?" She stepped back in surprise.

"Greene's Movers, like you requested ma'am. Service with a smile." Arnold bowed deeply. Helga chuckled.

"You really didn't have to come, football-head."

"I told you I wanted to help, Helga." Sean stepped out from behind his father and tugged at his shirt.

"Who is she, daddy?"

"Well, son, this is my friend Helga. She's a doctor at the hospital where I work." The boy smiled at Helga.

"Hi, I'm Sean." Helga smiled and knelt down to his level. He didn't look that much like Arnold. His hair was brown and his head wasn't shaped like a football. In fact, he looked more like his mother. For some reason though, that didn't bother Helga. There was something about him, the way he talked and his overall behavior that reminded her of the 9 year old boy she had loved.

"So you're the new short-man. You're lucky to have a good daddy."

"Yeah, he lets me watch Spiderman." Arnold laughed and patted his son.

"Probably more than I should. So where are these boxes anyway?" Helga gestured at a large pile of moving boxes near the corner of the room.

"Ok, we'd better get started then. Short-man, go with Helga and start with the smaller ones. I'll unpack the ones marked 'fragile'." Helga led Sean over to some smaller boxes and they began unpacking some clothes.

"Why did you call my daddy football-head?" Helga smiled at the boy's curiosity.

"Well, when your daddy was young, he used to have a football-shaped head, so we all used to call him football-head."

"Only you, Helga!" Arnold called from the other side of the room. Helga and Sean both laughed.

"I'm going to get something from my room; I'll be right back." Helga walked to her bedroom. Sean continued unpacking the box. He stopped when he came across a small, discolored notebook that was falling apart. He carefully removed it and opened it. His eyes lit up as he read.

"Daddy! Helga must really like ice-cream." Arnold turned around, puzzled.

"What do you mean, short-man?" Sean ran over and gave him the book. Arnold raised an eyebrow when he saw it.

"Short-man, you shouldn't read other people's things. It's not nice." At this point, Helga returned from her room.

"Oh, Helga, here's this book Sean found. I'm sorry that he opened it." Helga swallowed a gulp of air and steadied herself.

"Thanks." She walked over quickly and took the book, putting it aside. She continued unpacking. Sean walked over to her.

"I'm sorry for taking your book, Helga." She smiled and ruffled his hair.

"That's ok, Sean; you didn't know." He grinned.

"I like your pink robe."

"Ok. Ok, thanks." Phoebe sighed as she hung up the phone. Her fears had been confirmed. Daniel had tested HIV positive. She opened the curtain and found Daniel sitting on the bed alone.

"Well, doctor, was there anything unusual?"

"There was no indication of the presence of bacteria or fungi in your blood, Daniel," Phoebe replied quietly.

"Great. So you'll give me these antibiotics and I'll be better soon, right?"

"Daniel, there's something you need to know." His face sunk at Phoebe's solemn tone.

"What is it? I thought you said I was healthy aside from the flu." Phoebe sighed.

"Daniel, we ran an Oraquick test for HIV using your blood sample. You tested positive for HIV antibodies." His jaw dropped at her words.

"Now, wait a minute, doctor, those tests aren't one-hundred percent accurate. It could have easily been a mistake."

"Daniel, the Oraquick was determined by the FDA to be ninety-nine percent accurate. To be sure, I'm also having pathology run an immunobinding assay to confirm it. Your CD4 count is also lower than normal which would explain your flu-like symptoms."

"Doctor, there's still a chance, albeit a small one, that the test gave a false positive. And besides, there's still no proof that HIV even causes AIDS." Phoebe raised an eyebrow.

"Daniel, it is a general consensus in the scientific community that HIV does indeed cause AIDS."

"Then, why is there a Nobel-Prize winning biochemist who doesn't believe that HIV causes AIDS?"

"Kary Mullis is among the minority of scientists who believe that. The important thing Daniel is that we need to get you started on antibiotics and anti-retroviral treatment." Daniel stood up to leave.

"I'm sorry, doctor, but I will not take medicine for a disease that has not been proven to cause AIDS." He started walking out, but Phoebe raised her hand.

"Wait." He turned around.

"Are you going to tell Robert?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll let you tell him. He's a grown man; he can make his own choices about what to do if he finds out." He walked quickly past the admit-desk and through the double-doors.

"You didn't tell me you were diabetic, Rabbi Goldberg." Dr. Wartz remarked as he removed the catheter.

"You didn't ask."

"You're supposed to come everyday for your dialysis. Why did you miss your scheduled time yesterday?"

"I was officiating a bar-mitzvah. The needs of the spirit sometimes outweigh the needs of the body." Wartz smirked.

"What's the matter, doctor, don't you believe in God?" Wartz turned to the rabbi and stared at him thoughtfully.

"I used to." The rabbi rubbed his chin.

"It's a shame because you are doing God's work."

"I am today." The rabbi nodded his head.

"You were in the marines?" Wartz looked at him a bit surprised.

"Yeah, how did you know?" The rabbi pointed to a tattoo of the marine-corps crest and motto slightly above Wartz's left elbow.

"Oh, this; I'd almost forgotten it was there." He scratched at it nervously.

"How long were you in the corps?"

"5 years; I left in '93."

"Where were you stationed?" Wartz looked away.

"I'd rather not talk about it." He stood up to leave.

"Well, rabbi, you should be all set. Just come in at your usual time this afternoon for your dialysis and you should be fine." The rabbi nodded and Wartz walked away.

Arnold knocked on the door of Room 121. It was amazing how little P.S. 118 had changed. He remembered running down these same halls when he was Sean's age.

"Come in; it's open." Arnold entered the room and saw an elderly woman in her 70's with silvery hair sitting behind the desk.

"Ah, you must be Sean's father; Dr. Greene, right?"

"Yes, and you are?"

"Miss Slovak. It's nice to meet you." The two of them shook hands.

"I can't help but think that I had a teacher named Slovak once when I was in fourth grade. She left to play on the LPGA." The old lady chuckled.

"Well, that was just a little mid-life crisis. I came back to P.S. 118 about 15 years ago and I'm still here."

"I'm not sure if you remember me then, Miss Slovak; my name is Arnold. I used to sit in the second row and wear a little blue cap." The old teacher looked confused for a moment until her eyes brightened at the memory.

"Oh, Arnold. Yes, I remember you. Now that you mention it, I always knew that Sean reminded me of someone. Please, let's sit down over here." They walked over to one of the children's desks and Arnold slid in uncomfortably.

"Sean is a really good little boy. He's well-liked by the other students; he's kind; he doesn't tease any of the other kids; he's polite and respectful in class." Arnold smiled.

"Well, I try to teach him to be a good person. I'm glad he paid attention."

"I'm sure he has good role-models." She paused, and then continued.

"However, he seems to be struggling a bit in his arithmetic. Sometimes his homework isn't complete and when it is, it looks as if it were hurriedly done." Arnold raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know that; I guess that's partially my fault. I work pretty late at the hospital and his mother's been working late for the past couple of weeks and so neither of us really checked if Sean had done his homework."

"You can't blame yourselves for this, Dr. Greene. Your jobs are very demanding. Maybe what you could do is when you or your wife come home is sit with Sean in his room and check his homework and go over some of the things he needs help with. I'm sure his arithmetic will start getting better, and if I remember correctly, you were pretty good with numbers when you were a kid." He smiled at the memory of when he tutored Torvald in math.

"Thank you, Miss Slovak." They stood up, shook hands again, and Arnold walked out of the classroom.

"Oh, Daniel, I brought you a soda." Robert called, opening the curtain. He stepped back when he only saw Phoebe.

"Where's Daniel?"

"Daniel said he had to leave. I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes, Robert," Phoebe asked quietly.

"I don't understand, doctor, I'm not sick. I feel fine."

"It's Daniel, and it might be you." Robert looked concerned.

"What is the meaning of this doctor?"

"How long have you and Daniel been together, Robert?" His eyes pointed at the sky with a dreamy expression on his face.

"Well, I met Daniel when he came to give a poetry recitation at the school where I teach. His poetry was so expressive, so special. After class, I complimented him on his poetry, and he invited me for some coffee so he could show me his new works. I guess it just started from there. You know, he's not only a poet, he's also an activist as well."

"Where do you teach?"

"Oh, I teach fourth grade at P.S. 118." Phoebe nearly gasped.

"Mr. Simmons? Mr. Simmons, it's me, Phoebe Heyerdahl. I was in your fourth grade class."

"Phoebe? My goodness Phoebe, you've certainly turned into a special young woman. I always knew you would succeed. Aside from Olga Pataki, you were the best student P.S. 118's ever had." He gave her a big hug.

"I'm glad to see that you're doing all-right, Mr. Simmons."

"Now, what is it about Daniel being sick that you wanted to tell me?" Phoebe sighed.

"Daniel tested positive for HIV." His face turned pale when he heard the words.

"You can't be serious, can you?"

"I'm sorry to say that I am."

"Oh, my goodness." He held his head in his hands. Phoebe spoke quickly.

"Mr. Simmons, I think that it would be wise for you to undergo a test as well. You could be at risk for the virus, or worse-case scenario, you may have already been infected."

"I don't know, Phoebe. I'm not sure if Daniel would approve. He has rather special views on HIV."

"This isn't about Daniel; it's about you."

"Phoebe, if word got out that I was HIV-positive, then I could lose my job. Parents would be uncomfortable with a teacher with HIV. And my family; they would never approve; they keep asking me when I'm going to get married. Who knows what they'll do if I had HIV?"

"People with HIV can live normal, healthy lives, Mr. Simmons. But the important thing is to get tested."

"I'm not sure if I want to know."

"So you would rather stay with Daniel and risk infection."

"Daniel loves me; he would never hurt me."

"If Daniel really loved you, he wouldn't want you to get HIV." Mr. Simmons stood up to leave.

"I'm sorry, Phoebe, but I'll have to take my chances." He walked quickly out of the room.

"Mr. Simmons, please!" Phoebe followed him out, but he didn't turn back.

"Who was that?" Troy stood behind Phoebe.

"A dead man walking."

"Debbie, did Rabbi Goldberg come in for his dialysis yet?"

"No, he hasn't been in since this morning, Dr. Wartz." Wartz grabbed a chart and squinted.

"Shit, he was supposed to be here at 3." He grabbed a coat and rushed out of the ER.

"Short-man, I'm back!" Arnold opened the door to his apartment.

"Hi, daddy!" Sean called from the kitchen.

"Where's Suzy?" Arnold asked as he hung up his coat.

"I told her that she could have the day off." Arnold spun around.

"Helga? What are you doing here?"

"Just spending some time with your son. He helped me unpack the rest of the rest of my things and I figured I'd pay him back by making his lunch and giving him someone to talk to." Arnold smiled.

"You didn't have to do that, Helga. But, thanks." She pointed at some dishes sitting on the counter.

"I also took the liberty to make some chicken and rice, since Sean said that he hadn't had it for a while."

"Then the least you can do is stay and help us eat it."

"I don't want to impose. Besides, I better be going." She started to walk out of the kitchen when Sean ran over to her side.

"Helga, you don't have to leave, do you?"

"I'm sorry, kiddo, but I do have to go." The boy's face saddened. Helga smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I live on the third floor, remember? You can come see me whenever you want?" His face brightened again.

"Ok." He hugged her tightly. Arnold smiled at the scene.

"Helga, I owe you one." She smiled at him.

"Well, football-head, I might just take you up on that someday."

"Yeah, someday." She walked slowly out of the door. Arnold stared at after her for a while.

"Daddy?" Sean's voice shook him out of his stare.

"Yeah, short-man?"

"How was the conference?" Sean's tone was quieter and a little nervous.

"Well, short-man it was good. Miss Slovak told me that you've been a good boy. But she also told me that you need a little help in arithmetic. Is that true?" Sean hung his head down.

"I'm sorry, daddy. Sometimes I was confused and I ended up putting it off. I wanted to ask for help, but you or mom would always be out. I didn't mean to." Arnold patted his son's shoulder.

"It's all-right, short-man. Your mother and I haven't been there enough for you and that's our fault. But from now on, you can ask us for help whenever you need it, no matter what time is it. Got it?" Sean nodded.

"Ok, let's eat this nice dinner, and afterwards we'll tackle that arithmetic together."

He stood quietly at the back of the synagogue trying to pick out Rabbi Goldberg amongst the large crowd gathered for evening prayer. It had been a long time since he had been in a building with any religious significance.

He didn't understand the rabbi's behavior. Blind faith over sound science. And there were many, some even in this synagogue who believed and acted as the rabbi.

He listened as the rabbi led them in evening prayer. Even in his weakened state, the rabbi's voice rang clear and strong. From just listening you would never have guessed how sick the rabbi actually was. The service was nearing an end and the people began filing out of the building. He moved quickly up to the front and saw the rabbi sit down wearily near the altar.

"You missed your dialysis again, rabbi."

"Ah, Dr. Wartz. I was wondering when you were going to come."

"You knew I was coming?"

"Not until now."

"Rabbi, we need to get you to the hospital." Wartz helped the rabbi up and supported him by the shoulder.

"Ok, let's go." They walked slowly down the aisle.

"What's wrong, honey?" Gerald asked as he sipped his wine.

"Oh, nothing; just a patient." He placed his hand on hers.

"We don't take our work home with us. And besides, we're supposed to be celebrating five good years." She smiled.

"Has it really been that long already?"

"Sometimes, I wonder."

"Is this couple ready to order?" Jacques, the long-time waiter at Chez-Paris arrived at their table.

"Yes, I'll have the boeuf bourguignon."

"And I'll have the escargots and the terrine de saumon aux epinards-riz."

"Very good." He left quickly to take the orders.

"Now, where were we?" She smiled.

"Well, you were going to tell me..." Her train of thought was interrupted by loud laughter coming from the corner table. It was a couple who looked quite intimate as they enjoyed their dinner. The woman was tall with brown hair, brown eyes, and wearing a green evening gown. The man also had brown hair, was well built and in a designer suit. Phoebe squinted carefully.

"Gerald, if I'm not mistaken, that looks a lot like..."

"Lila."

"Rabbi, I'm starting to wonder if you are missing your sessions on purpose." Wartz helped the rabbi onto the bed as they waited for the lab tech to bring in the dialysis machine. The rabbi chuckled.

"Maybe I am." He looked at the doctor with a solemn expression.

"If you keep this up you won't live to see next week."

"You know, I've been on dialysis for nearly 6 years. Adding up the total hours spent at the hospital, I've spent a good part of my life attached to a machine that cleans my kidneys."

"Rabbi," The rabbi raised a hand.

"I'm very tired, Dr. Wartz. Very tired. I keep coming in for these sessions and it just doesn't go away."

"You can't just give up on life."

"Perhaps, I should say the same to you about faith."

"That's a different story."

"You know, I've been a rabbi since I was 28 years old. I've officiated hundreds of bar-mitzvahs, weddings, not to mention Shabbat services and daily prayers. I've heard thousands of confessions, performed last rites." He paused before continuing.

"Dr. Wartz, it is obvious that something is troubling you. You would not have specifically come looking for me, or do you make it policy to go after every patient who misses a dialysis session?" Wartz looked away. The rabbi motioned him to come over and took his hand in his.

"I want to hear your pain, Dr. Wartz. I want to take it with me." The lab technician entered the room but Wartz waved him off, telling him that he would perform the dialysis.

"Please, doctor, I haven't much time." Wartz breathed a heavy sigh.

"I was an army surgeon during the first Gulf War. It was at the end of the war, a few days after the cease-fire; we were ordered to fly into Basra, in southern Iraq to pick up some Red-Cross workers who were injured in some of the last fighting. It was supposed to be a routine evac; we fly in, pick them up, and go. Instead, we fly in and the town's in chaos. There's fighting between the remnants of the Iraqi army and civilians who rebelled. We move in and we find the workers are holed up in their station, an abandoned apartment complex. We carry them out on stretchers and then this Iraqi woman and her daughter run after us, begging us to take them along. They're being chased by the Iraqi soldier. He grabs the women by the hair and flings them back. We pointed our weapons at him but our sergeant orders us to stand down; says that we just signed a cease-fire and that the war is over. We protest, but he says that the order came from above. I remember seeing the expression on the Iraqi soldier's face when we ran back to the helicopter. It was as if he were saying, 'you may have won your war, but you won't win this one.' He shot both women at point blank range and left their bodies to die. We get on the chopper and we hover over the village watching the carnage, and we can't do a damn thing about it. The blood of those Iraqis is still on our hands."

Wartz held his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. The rabbi reached over and took his hand.

"God forgives all who ask, and he will forgive you as well." His voice was weakening and he sunk back on the bed, ready for the big-sleep.


	4. My Brother's Keeper

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, I appreciate them. I don't own anything but this story.

Episode 4: My Brother's Keeper

"What are we going to tell him?" She rested her head comfortably on his chest.

"I don't know, Pheebs." His fingers lazily played with her hair.

"He's your best friend; it should be you."

"Yeah, I guess I have to. He doesn't deserve this."

"Well, maybe it'll work out in the end. It always does."

"What is that supposed to mean? He's going to be crushed when he hears this." She looked up at him with a small smile.

"Oh, no, you're not thinking about that are you? Please tell me that you're still not thinking of that." She laughed.

"And what if I were?"

"I'd say you were crazy. And I'd probably end up helping."

"That's what I wanted to hear." He continued to play with her hair as she drifted back to sleep on his chest.

"Where's the coffee?" Arnold rummaged around the lounge.

"I think we ran out yesterday," Nadine replied as she ate her yogurt.

"I didn't think they'd cut our budget this much," quipped Arnold as he wrapped his stethoscope around his neck. He walked out to the admit-desk.

"Troy, we're out of coffee again."

"Coke does the same trick."

"I thought that you could dissolve raw meat in Coke." Troy laughed.

"I can't believe you of all people would say that, Dr. Greene." Chuckling, Arnold walked over to the soda machine and bought a bottle of Coke, taking a big swig.

"No scrubs today, doc?" Troy remarked at Arnold's light blue button-down shirt that was rolled up to his elbows.

"I thought I would dress nicer today."

"Aren't those the days when you usually get the messy ones?" Arnold laughed.

"Yeah, this is one of my last nice shirts. My wife isn't too pleased at having to buy new ones almost every month." Troy answered the dispatch phone at the desk.

"Get ready to get messy."

"What's coming in?"

"2 guys coming in with gun-shot wounds, one abdominal, the other shoulder."

"Hmm, and it looks like I'm the only doctor here at the moment. Have Phoebe or Gerald checked in?"

"Not yet."

"Helga?"

"Nope."

"Wartz?"

"Do you really want him here?"

"Better than nothing."

The double doors whooshed open and Phoebe walked quickly past the help desk.

"Little late today, are we Phoebe?" Arnold remarked smiling. She shot him a glance and continued walking to the locker-room.

"5 year anniversary last night." Arnold explained to Troy.

"Well, that's as good as an excuse as any." Gerald followed soon after, but before Arnold could say anything he held his hand out to deflect any questions or sarcasm.

The EMT's burst through the double-doors wheeling in a young African-American male, no older than 18. He was bleeding profusely from a gun-shot wound to the right shoulder. His left hand was handcuffed to the stretcher. A heavy-set police officer ran beside them.

"What happened?" Arnold walked briskly beside the EMT. The cop interrupts.

"This punk holds up some taco joint for a couple of bucks; guy behind the counter doesn't fork it over and instead activates the alarm and pulls his own piece out. Then they both start shooting, he gets shot in the arm and then shoots the cashier in the gut. Stupid punk." Gerald appeared beside Arnold.

"I'll take this one; you wait for the other guy." Arnold nodded and walked off.

"Ok, we need to get an x-ray on that shoulder to see where the bullet's lodged. Sheena, let's go." Gerald and Sheena started wheeling the guy into the elevator when the cop tried to squeeze inside.

"Excuse me, officer, but you'll have to remain here. You can pick him up after surgery." The cop snarled.

"You know, I don't know why you would even waste your time on punks like this. I say just let 'em rot for all I care." The boy looked up and glared defiantly at the cop.

"You think you're so tough now that I'm like this. You just wait, sucka, I'm going to whoop your fat..."

The last word was cut off when Gerald placed an oxygen mask over the struggling boy's face. The cop was furious and his face reddened. Gerald had seen enough.

"Ok, both of you need to shut-up." He turned to the officer.

"Sir, once a person enters this building as a patient, they get our best effort." The elevator slammed shut leaving the officer steaming.

Arnold paced nervously. He hated the waiting period when you knew that a patient was coming with a certain ailment. Sometimes the sudden, spontaneous ones were easier because they minimized the down-time. That was the beauty of emergency medicine; moments of grace amidst chaos.

"You all-right?" Phoebe stood next to him.

"Yeah, I just don't like the waiting."

"Well, it doesn't look like we'll have to be waiting very long."

More EMT's rushed in, wheeling the second victim of the attempted robbery. He was an old Vietnamese man bleeding heavily. A young woman ran behind them but was stopped by one of the EMT's.

"Ma'am, please, you can't come in here."

"Please, that's my father, you have to help him." Arnold went over to her.

"Ma'am, if you would please wait in the waiting room. We'll tell you about his progress, I promise." Arnold ran back to the stretcher.

"What's his status?" he asked one of the EMT's.

"He's got 2 bullets in his abdomen; unconscious at the scene; probably lost a lot of blood." Phoebe checked his blood pressure.

"BP collapsing; he's going into shock. Let's get a tube in his throat and bag him." Nadine entered with the tube and bag and began pumping oxygen. Arnold motioned for Debbie to come over with some IV's.

"Ok, let's get 2 liters of saline inside him. Call the blood bank; tell them we're going to need 2 liters of O-negative. Dopamine after we get the blood back. And, call surgery while you're at it. Can't get a surgeon when you need one."

"You were saying, Greene?" Vincent Wartz walked calmly into the chaos.

"Nice to see you, Vince."

"Ok, folks, we've done all we can do here. This man needs surgery; time to make a miracle; let's go." Wartz led the team into trauma 1.

"Looks like I missed a big party," Helga remarked as she walked into the building.

"Just 2 gunshot victims," Arnold replied nonchalantly as he removed the clear, yellow top over his clothing.

"Where are they?"

"Gerald took one to x-ray a while ago; Wartz has one in trauma 1 if you're interested." Helga quickly threw on some scrubs and headed towards trauma 1.

"Need any help, Vince?" Helga asked as she began putting on gloves and a mask.

"I got this one, Helga. Next time you want one, you come in on time for your shift."

"So, I'm guessing that's a no."

"Yes, now get out of here!"

"Ok, cheesh, I'm leaving. I know when I'm not wanted." Helga stormed out of the room.

"Wartz get to you?" Arnold asked finishing the now lukewarm bottle of Coke.

"Don't ask." Arnold laughed as she threw away her gloves and mask.

The conversation was interrupted when more EMT's rushed in wheeling a little boy strapped on the stretcher. The boy was already intubated but was unconscious, and his skin was a pale blue.

"What happened?" Helga asked walking up to the boy.

"Near drowning, 2 kids out swimming in the lake go out too far from shore; this one gets tired and starts sinking; by the time his brother notices, he's already underwater; brother dives down, grabs him and treads water for almost 10 minutes before rescue comes in." Helga felt the boy's cheek; it was cold, almost like a corpse. The cardiac monitor started beeping and the EKG lines began dropping rapidly.

"He's going into arrest, let's shock him." Debbie arrived with the defibrillators. Helga rubbed the pads together to charge them up. She raised them above her head.

"Ok, 1, 2, 3, clear." She pressed the pads on the boy's chest and he jerked upwards in response. Arnold checked the monitor.

"2 more times, Helga; we need to get that heart rate back up." She rubbed the pads together again, this time at 300J.

"1, 2, 3, clear." She pressed the pads again on the boy's chest causing a more intense response. The EKG lines spiked upwards slightly, but then fell.

"Come on!" Helga cried in frustration. She charged the pads to 360J.

"1, 2, 3, clear." She pressed the pads on his chest causing him to jerk again. The EKG lines spiked upwards and began to stabilize. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ok, let's give him .30 mg of Epipen every 3-5 minutes until his pulse gets back to normal."

"Where's the other boy?" asked Arnold.

"He should be coming in a little after us. He should be ok except for a case of hypothermia," the EMT replied.

"Ok, let's get some warm blankets for this kid. Give him something hot to drink too."

"Dr. Greene?" Troy called from the desk.

"Yeah."

"That woman, the daughter of the gun-shot victim is asking how her father's doing."

"Tell her, I'll check and I'll get back to her." Arnold turned to Helga.

"You got this?" She nodded. He walked towards trauma 1.

Wartz sighed as he threw away his gloves.

"Vince." He turned around and saw Arnold walking towards him.

"He didn't make it, ok?" Arnold stopped.

"There was too much internal bleeding; we removed the bullets but the bleeding just wouldn't stop. His stomach lining was completely torn; there was nothing we could do."

"His daughter is outside. She wants to know what happened."

"Tell her the truth. You know how it goes; you do the best job at telling people."

"You want to tell her?"

"No."

"Vince, you performed the surgery." He stared at Arnold thoughtfully.

"Greene, you're the messenger boy around here. You cry their tears; you laugh their laughter; sometimes I wonder how you have anything left for yourself after you're done." Wartz walked away quickly leaving Arnold standing in front of the doors.

Gerald walked slowly into the recovery room. They had managed to remove the bullet from the boy's shoulder. He knocked on the door as he entered. The boy looked up groggily as Gerald sat down beside him.

"Hey, just wanted to check on how you were doing." The boy remained silent.

"Well, in a couple of weeks you should be able to have full use of that shoulder."

"Why don't you just get to the point doc?" Gerald looked confused.

"Excuse me?"

"Why don't you just start the lecture? Why don't you just start telling me that if I work hard enough and shape up that I can succeed just like you? That's all I've ever heard anyway. Look at me, I made it; why can't you? So go ahead, and tell me how you made it and how I can too if I just try hard enough." Gerald's features hardened.

"Well, I didn't come here to give you a lecture. I just came to see how you were doing. I also came to tell you that the man you shot died in surgery. His daughter is in tears in the waiting room." The boy became quiet. Gerald stood up to leave.

"Well, I think that that was better than any lecture." Two cops walked into the room. Gerald turned to them.

"He's all yours."

Arnold stared at the middle-aged Vietnamese woman holding her head in her hands. Her short black hair covered her eyes, red from crying.

"Excuse me, ma'am." She looked up at him.

"I'm Dr. Greene; I helped take care of your father when he came in."

"How is he, doctor?" Arnold sighed.

"Your father was shot twice in the abdomen. We took him into surgery, and there was a lot of internal bleeding." She looked at him, trembling.

"I'm sorry." He was cut off by her sobbing. He went over and sat next to her.

"It was his first day as manager after all those years working as a cook. He was so excited; he told me to bring the kids to come in and he would give them a free taco."

"Where did your father work?"

"At the El Patio restaurant." Arnold stared at her carefully. There was something familiar about this woman. It couldn't be a coincidence that her father worked at a taco place and was Vietnamese.

"Your father didn't happen to live in the Sunset Arms boarding house, did he?" She looked at him a bit surprised.

"Why, yes, he did? But how would you..."

"Are you Mai Huynh?" She pulled back in surprise.

"Yes, I am, but how do you..."

"Mai, it's me, Arnold. My grand-parents ran the boarding house. I was there when you and your father were reunited that Christmas." Her eyes brightened a bit.

"Arnold, my goodness, you've grown. I do remember." She smiled slightly.

"I'm sorry, Mai. I know it's not fair." He placed a hand on her shoulder and they remained that way for a long time.

"Excuse me, is that our son? Please we want to see him." A couple in their thirties pleaded with Troy at the desk.

"Let me check with Dr. Pataki." He called her over the intercom. She exited out of exam room 2 and walked towards the desk. She saw the couple and gave a tired smile.

"Hi, you must be the boys' parents. I'm Dr. Pataki."

"How is he, doctor?"

"Well, both of your sons are going to be all right. We managed to stabilize the one who nearly drowned and the other one is recovering nicely from hypothermia. If you want, I can take you back there to see them." They nodded gratefully. Helga led them into exam room 1 where the boy who nearly drowned was resting and they rushed over to his bed.

"It's going to be all right, David." the woman cooed, "Mommy and Daddy are here."

"Yeah, son. I'm real proud of you for hanging in there."

"He should be awake in an hour or two. Would you like to visit your other son? He's just next door in room 2." At those words, the man's face hardened and he began to snarl.

"Oh, yeah, I'd like to have a visit with him." The woman looked up and pleaded with her husband.

"Peter, please, don't be too hard on him." The man ignored her and marched into room 2. The little boy sat on the edge of the bed wrapped in a warm blanket, drinking hot cocoa.

"What the heck were you thinking out there, Kevin?" He growled as he pulled aside the curtain. The boy's lip began to tremble and he struggled not to cry.

"I'm sorry, dad, I didn't mean to. We've swam out that far before and nothing ever happened, honest."

"You're lucky we got these doctors here or else your brother would have drowned."

"I'm sorry, dad. Honest."

"You're sorry? That's right you're sorry. All you ever are is sorry. Sometimes I don't understand what goes through that head of yours." Helga decided that she had heard enough.

"Excuse me, sir. Kevin is still recovering from hypothermia. It would be better for him if you let him rest quietly." He whirled around and she gave him an icy stare. He started backing away.

"Ok, doc." He turned back to the boy.

"When we get home, we're going to have a long talk about this. You're looking at no video-games for a year or maybe more!" He stormed off, cursing under his breath. Helga stared after him for a while. She turned to the boy and smiled.

"Are you feeling better, Kevin?" She pulled a chair next to the bed and sat next to him.

"Yeah, I'm not as cold anymore."

"That's good. You want some more cocoa?" He shook his head.

"Are you mad at me too?" He asked in a small voice.

"No," Helga replied quietly. "These things just happen sometimes. I think that you were very brave by keeping your brother afloat and treading water the whole time."

"My dad doesn't think so. He just thinks that I was stupid for swimming out that far anyway."

"What about your mom?"

"She just cries and says why I can't be more like David." Helga's heart ached. The boy continued.

"We both swim on the YMCA swim team. David was always a little faster than me and we always finished first and second at the meets. His trophies always get put in the living room and mine are in a box in the closet. So, today, we were at the lake, and I dared him to see how far we could swim. He kept saying no, that he was tired, that he didn't have the energy. I kept teasing him until he finally gave in. We swam for a long time until I realized that I was alone. I swam back because I thought he turned back. Finally I go underwater and I see him sinking." The boy started crying again. Helga grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

"It wasn't your fault, Kevin. You can't keep thinking that." She paused for a moment. "I know how you feel about your brother." He shot a glance at her through his tears.

"No, you don't, nobody does." Helga sighed.

"You know, when I was about your age, I had a friend who said the same things you just said. She had an older sister that everyone thought was perfect. Smart, beautiful, and a good musician. To this day, people at her old elementary school still talk about what a great student her sister was. My friend would always complain how she never got any attention. Her mother was always sleeping and making smoothies while her father just watched TV all day. Sometimes her mother would forget to make her lunch for school, and her father would get her name wrong when he called for her." The boy looked up at Helga.

"Wow that really sucks. At least my dad gets my name right." Helga chuckled.

"Yeah, that's what she told me. She used to complain to me all the time. I remember, when we were older, I gave her a piece of advice that I'm going to give to you."

"What's that?"

"Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not just as important, that you're not just as special as your brother, because you are. Your parents may not realize it now, but one day, when you're older, they will. And they'll come and tell you what a great person you've become, and that they're sorry for not seeing it earlier. But, it won't matter, because you knew it all along." The boy nodded his head at Helga.

"Well, Kevin, I better get back to making my rounds. Good luck, kiddo." She started walking out the door.

"Dr. Pataki?" She turned around.

"What happened to your friend, the one whose sister was perfect? Did her parents ever say how special she became?" The boy asked innocently. Helga gave a long pause before answering.

"I don't know. I haven't talked to her in a while."

Arnold checked his name off the marker board. He threw away some junk mail and breathed a heavy sigh.

"Long day, football-head?" Helga asked joining him inside the desk.

"Yeah, the gun-shot victim who died lived at my old boarding house."

"Oh? Who was that?"

"Mr. Huynh. I was sitting with his daughter in the waiting room for half an hour."

"Mai was here?"

"Yeah. Say, how did you know her name was Mai?" Helga gulped quickly realizing the little slip.

"Uh, well, um, Troy had her fill out some forms about patient check-in. Yeah that's it."

"Ok, Helga." He yawned "I'm going to head home."

"Night, football-head."

"Night." He walked slowly through the double doors.

"Arnold!" He turned around to see Gerald running to catch up.

"Hey, man." They did their secret hand-shake.

"Seems like it's been forever since we've talked."

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

"Well, I guess Phoebe has you pretty busy." Arnold grinned slyly at his friend.

"Ha-ha. Hey, you want to get a drink?"

"Sure, I guess it couldn't hurt." They walked into Wolfgang's.

"Are you sure Phoebe doesn't mind you out this later?"

"Hey man, a guy needs to spend some time with his buddies." They laughed.

"What'll it be guys?"

"2 beers." The burly bartender went off for their orders.

"So what's wrong, Gerald?"

"What do you mean? Can't a guy hang out with his best friend?"

"You wouldn't have asked me like this. Unless you're going to make me buy." Gerald smiled.

"Ok, I'm buying. But next time, it's you." The bartender returned with two glasses and two bottles.

They poured their drinks and sipped them, enjoying the taste.

"It's been a while since I've had a beer."

"Miss it?"

"Not as much as I thought I would. I mean, back in med-school."

"I know what you mean. You needed the beer back then." An awkward silence came between them.

"So, what is it Gerald?"

"What?"

"What did you want to talk to me about? It has to be serious or else you wouldn't offer to buy." Gerald sighed.

"How are thing with Lila?" Arnold raised an eyebrow.

"They're ok. I mean, I'd like it if she was here more, but I guess there's nothing wrong. Why?"

"Ok, Pheebs and I went out to Chez Paris for our anniversary dinner. We were about to eat until Pheebs points out this woman and her date sitting in the corner. Long brown hair, incredible figure, green dress, laughing a little too loud. Sounds like your wife." Arnold gave a quizzical eye.

"Oh, come on. There are a lot of people who could fit that description."

"I'm not asking you to believe me."

"I don't think I'm going to." They drank their beers in silence.

"Just ask her. For me." Gerald gave Arnold a serious look.

"Fine."

He struggled up the stairs. Only 2 beers and he was already feeling buzzed. His buddies back at med school would be laughing if they saw him now.

He opened the door and found a dark apartment. Sean was probably sleeping and he didn't want to wake him. He hung up his coat and headed towards the kitchen. Water would minimize the effects of the hangover. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a big bottle of water and drank several huge gulps.

He couldn't believe what Gerald had told him. Sure, their marriage had problems, but it was like any other marriage. And when she was around, he enjoyed every minute together.

He finished the water and threw away the bottle. He opened the refrigerator again to look for an apple. As he rummaged through, he noticed an odd-shaped plastic carton that was crammed in the corner. He removed it and opened the lid.

"Hmm, that's odd. Where did this fondue come from?" He stuck his finger in and licked the contents.

Dark chocolate. The desert they always ordered every time they went to Chez Paris. This time, more bitter than sweet.


	5. Damage Control

Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews. I appreciate them. I don't own anything but this story.

Episode 5: Damage Control

"Oh, you're back. We were wondering when you were coming in. Sean kept asking about you." He turned around and saw Lila standing at the entrance of the kitchen. He slowly put the container back into the refrigerator and closed the door.

"Yeah, I just got a drink on the way home with Gerald." She smiled.

"Well, do you want to come to bed?" He stared hard at her. She was wearing a shiny, silvery nightgown with shoulder straps. It was hard for him to focus on the pressing topic with her dressed like that.

"Maybe, in a bit."

"I'll be waiting." She turned and started walking away.

"So, how was the fondue?" She stopped in her tracks.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice remained calm and controlled like the lawyer she was.

"I thought it was more bitter than usual."

"Maybe, you've forgotten how it tastes; we haven't been to Chez Paris for a while."

"You're right. We haven't. But you have." She turned around slowly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, honey. I came home early tonight. Spent some time with Sean."

"You did a pretty clumsy job concealing the evidence for an attorney." She smiled at him.

"I think you're drunk, honey. Why don't we go to bed and I'll forget that this happened?" She started to walk away again until Arnold stopped her.

"So who's the lucky guy?" She turned around again.

"Honestly, dear, I don't know what you're talking about." He raised his voice slightly.

"I can't believe you would keep lying to me like that. We're not in court." She whirled around quickly and began walking towards him.

"That's so typical of you men. You assume that your wives are cheating on you just because they're out working late that they're automatically cheating."

"You're wrong about that, Lila. I trusted you when you said you were working late. I always thought people worked late in offices instead of posh restaurants."

"And who told you that I was there?"

"Gerald and Phoebe saw you when they were on their anniversary dinner."

"And you would believe them over your own wife?"

"I'm not sure what to believe." They stared at each other. An uncomfortable silence grew.

"Well, where we go from here, Arnold?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I'm going to bed. Come if you want." She turned around and walked quickly to their bedroom, slamming the door shut. Arnold sighed and rubbed his eyes. The couch never looked so far away.

"Did you tell him?" Phoebe sat up in bed.

"Yeah, I told him. He wasn't too pleased." Gerald slid in beside her and sighed.

"Well, he had to know. He would have found out anyway; better sooner than later."

"He really loves her. I mean, he's loved her since he was nine and decided that he like-liked her." He laughed at his Lila impression, but Phoebe didn't join him. Gerald turned to her seriously.

"Wasn't that funny? We always make fun of Lila." Phoebe gave him a small smile.

"No, it wasn't that. It's just a little ironic that Arnold's in this situation. Loving someone for that long and..."

"Oh, you mean like..."

"Exactly." She pulled herself closer towards him and rested her head on his shoulder. He snaked his arm around her.

"Let's just get some sleep."

"You're early today," chuckled Debbie at the admit desk as Helga trudged into the ER.

"Thought I'd make up for yesterday. Wartz wouldn't like it if I came in late again." She headed towards the locker-room, put away her coat, and changed into some scrubs.

"We're out of coffee, Debbie."

"I know, Dr. Greene complained about that yesterday." Helga walked over to the soda machine and bought a Diet Coke.

"I don't know how you can drink those." Debbie pointed to Helga's drink.

"It's an acquired taste." She took a small sip and wrinkled her face. "That I'm still learning to acquire."

"Excuse me people; can I have your attention, please?" Wartz walked in followed by an elderly doctor dressed in an old lab coat. He was balding except for some white hair on the sides of his head and a white mustache. He walked very slowly but with great poise.

"This is Dr. Murray Steiglitz. He's going to be assisting us here in the ER for a while. You should remember him from all the times we went to see him for check-ups when we were kids. He's a legend. Learn from him." Dr. Steiglitz smiled and shook hands with everyone.

"Well, Murray, I'll let you get settled in. Show these people a thing or two about medicine." Helga rolled her eyes.

"Not going to grace us with your presence today, Vince?"

"Unfortunately, no. I have a board meeting in about twenty minutes so if you'll excuse me." He walked towards the elevator. Helga glanced at Dr. Steiglitz who was holding his right wrist tightly in an awkward position.

"Are you all right, Dr. Steiglitz?" He looked up at her a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, yes," he replied in a gravelly voice. "My arthritis is acting up again."

"What made you decide to come back to the hospital?"

"Well, I got kind of tired of the private practice routine. Same patients day in and day out. Fill out a prescription; give them an allergy or a migraine shot; gets kind of old, and well, I just wanted to see if I could still do hospital work." Helga smiled.

"Well, we're glad you're here. Like Vince said, we can learn a lot from you." As they were talking, Gerald and Phoebe entered the building. Gerald's eyes lit up when he saw the old man.

"Dr. Steiglitz? Is that you?" The old man smiled warmly at his former patient.

"I knew that your voice would come back to normal after I took out your tonsils." They shook hands.

"I didn't know that you were still practicing."

"I didn't either." They chuckled. Dr. Steiglitz spoke up.

"You know, Gerald, I was so proud of you when your father told me you finished medical school. You really deserved it."

"Well, I had a good role model." Dr. Steiglitz gestured towards Phoebe.

"Who is this lovely young woman? Surely she can't be yours Gerald?" She smiled.

"I'm Phoebe Heyerdahl, Dr. Steiglitz. I'm supposed to be the chief here, and I'm supposed to be Gerald's wife if he ever gets around to asking." She grinned slyly at him and Gerald turned away. Dr. Steiglitz chuckled.

"Better not let this one get away, Gerald." Phoebe walked towards the locker-room. Gerald shook his head.

"Well, Dr. Steiglitz, I better scrub up." They shook hands again and Gerald left. When he left, the old man snuck off into a corner and gripped his wrist tightly. It was trembling noticeably. He quickly opened a bottle of pills and took two of them, washing them down with a long drink from the water fountain. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

His pager vibrated noisily on the table beside the coach. He reached blindly for it and managed to shut it off. Groaning, he rolled of the couch and felt a sharp wave of pain running up his neck. He walked slowly into the bathroom, took out two aspirin and swallowed them quickly. He splashed some cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and cleaned his glasses. His pager went off again; it was the hospital telling him that he was late.

"Excuse me, excuse me, can we get some help over here?" A middle aged woman called from the entrance. She was flanked by her husband and daughter who seemed barely able to stand. Phoebe walked over to them.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"We've been having these terrible headaches and this sense of nausea and dizziness for a couple of hours."

"All of you?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, any other symptoms? Fever? Fatigue?"

"We have been feeling unusually tired. I could hardly get myself out of bed this morning for some reason, and I always get up by six A.M."

"And all of you are feeling this way?"

"Yes." Phoebe scratched her head.

"Well, I'm not sure what this is exactly, ma'am. These symptoms are not really consistent with any specific disease. I could..." Dr. Steiglitz quickly stepped in.

"Ma'am, what she's meaning to say is that she suspects that it could be carbon monoxide poisoning."

"What? How can that be?" The woman looked incredulous.

"Well, how long has it been since you've used your fireplace?"

"Just last night."

"Maybe you should get it checked out. If you don't maintain your chimney, the levels of carbon monoxide can build up and lead to poisoning. You're lucky you came here early." He turned to Phoebe.

"Ok, why don't we give them some supplemental oxygen for four hours; just facemasks. Also, I want a CBC, CPK, urinalysis, cardiac enzymes, salicylate level, ECG, and CXR."

"Are all of those tests really necessary?" asked the woman in shock.

"Ma'am, CO poisoning can lead to neurological and cardiological problems. We need to make sure that we can rule those out. Debbie, let's get to it." The nurse came over and led the family into exam room 2. Phoebe looked at Dr. Steiglitz, still a little amazed.

"How did you know that?"

"Still got it." He walked away, chuckling.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Sheena." Arnold walked in clad in his scrubs.

"No rest for the weary?" Arnold smiled at her joke.

"Not when the rest was on your overstuffed couch."

"There's a young woman in curtain room 1 waiting for someone to see her."

"You want to come join me?" They walked over towards the room. Arnold pulled back the curtain.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Greene. What seems to be the problem?" There was a young woman lying down on the bed, sweating and with pale looking skin. Standing beside her was another woman. Both were in their early twenties.

"My roommate has been pretty sick lately. She's had this fever for a couple of days and she doesn't want to eat." Arnold frowned.

"Any other symptoms? Sore throat? Muscle aches? Fatigue?" The woman in the bed spoke up.

"My back's been hurting for a while." Arnold took his stethoscope and listened to her heart.

"Take a few deep breaths, please." He listened intensely.

"Your heart-beat is a bit erratic. I'm only getting these faint heart murmurs." He turned to Sheena.

"Let's get an ECG, echo, and 2 sets of blood cultures to send down to path." Sheena nodded and left to get the equipment. The young woman turned to Arnold.

"What's going to happen?"

"Well, I'm a little concerned about your heart-rate. We're going to draw some blood and run an ECG to see your heart-rate."

"You're not going to give me any medicine?"

"Well, I want to see what the results of the test are first, and then we'll go from there."

"I can't take any medication." Arnold raised an eyebrow.

"I don't understand. According to your chart, you didn't list any allergies towards any types of medication." The young woman spoke softly.

"It's not that. I'm a Christian Scientist. I'm not supposed to accept medication." Arnold frowned.

"Well, as your physician, I'm legally obligated to treat whatever illness you have."

"I understand that, but my beliefs state that I cannot accept such treatment."

"She's right, doctor." Arnold turned around and faced an elderly couple who had just entered the room.

"I better go, Yvonne." The young woman's roommate hugged her and walked quickly out of the room.

"Are you Yvonne's parents?"

"Yes, doctor, we are, and we're here to make sure that she does not receive any medication. We have brought a certified practitioner to ensure that Yvonne gets the best possible care under our guidelines." Arnold was shocked.

"There's a chance that your daughter might have acute endocarditis which means that her heart valves could be infected." Yvonne's father spoke up.

"We understand that, doctor, and we are prepared to treat the disease using our methods."

"She could die within hours if she doesn't receive antibiotics."

"You underestimate the power of prayer."

"I'm just trying to help." Another man walked into the curtain area, wearing a striped polo shirt and blue jeans.

"Ah, yes, Jonathan, I was wondering when you were coming. Doctor, may I introduce Mr. Jonathan Miller, our Christian Science practitioner. He has worked for us in the past and has never failed us, and I see no reason why he should now." Arnold nodded curtly at the visitor. The man cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, doctor, but I believe that you should leave now. Your services are no longer required."

"But..."

"Please, doctor, unless you plan to join us in prayer." Arnold gave a hard stare at the minister.

"God helps those who help themselves." He turned and walked quickly out of the room.

"What do we have?" Dr. Steiglitz walked alongside the EMT.

"10 year old boy, bee-sting on the playground, starts having this allergic reaction, anaphylaxis."

"Ok, let's get a tube in him and bag him." He tried to slide the tube down the boy's trachea but the throat was swollen and blocking the passage.

"Damn, his throat's swelling; can't get it in. Epipen, please." Nadine quickly inserted the IV into his arm.

"Swelling's still not going down; he needs an airway."

"Ok, let's get ready for a trache. Local anesthesia only, scalpel please." He grabbed the scalpel and was about to cut, when he noticed that his hand was beginning to tremble. He gripped his wrist tightly.

"Dr. Steiglitz, are you ready?"

"Give me a second."

"It's now or never." He quickly raised the scalpel over the boy's neck and lowered it, hands still trembling.

"Come on, come on." He made a clean cut into the skin, but his hand trembled again and the blade slipped aside. Blood squirted out from the severed vein. He leapt back.

"Damn! Give me some suction and a clamp. And get Johanssen in here." He sighed as he tried to stop the bleeding.

"What's going on?" Gerald rushed into the room.

"My hand slipped when I was doing a trache."

"His oxygen levels are falling." Nadine quipped.

"Ok, give me some suction." Nadine began sucking up the excess blood. Gerald clamped the vein in an effort to stop the bleeding. However, the boy continued to bleed.

"His life signs are falling. Oxygen levels low." Nadine said quietly. Gerald sighed. The blood was continuing to squirt.

"3:30 PM. Hillwood Memorial. Pronounced by Dr. Johanssen." The boy's mother was outside the room and started crying. Dr. Steiglitz stood frozen beside the table, an ashen expression on his face. Nadine went outside to comfort the mother. Gerald turned towards him.

"Let's take a walk."

"Phoebe, I don't know what to do here." Arnold sat across from her in the lounge and rubbed his eyes.

"You're saying that they won't accept any care whatsoever?"

"Aside from the blood-tests, no."

"We are legally obligated to provide care."

"They say that their beliefs prohibit any medication. There are records of families going to court over this."

"And they won?"

"To my knowledge, yes." Phoebe sighed.

"I don't know, Arnold. All we can do is accept their wishes."

"I just can't believe that they're going to let her die." He held his head in his hands. Phoebe walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

They walked slowly through the double doors outside of the building. Gerald stared off into the horizon while Dr. Steiglitz stared at his feet.

"What happened in there?" Dr. Steiglitz continued to stare at his feet.

"I don't know. My hand just slipped; that's all."

"You could do a trache in your sleep."

"I still can." He grabbed his hand tightly.

"What's wrong?" His hand was trembling noticeably.

"It's nothing, just arthritis."

"Let me see your hand." Slowly, he took his hands out of his pockets, revealing a trembling right hand.

"Why didn't you tell us you had Parkinson's?"

"I thought I could treat it; I thought it wouldn't be an issue. I've been taking L-Dopa."

"What on earth were you thinking treating patients when you had Parkinson's?" Dr. Steiglitz sighed.

"It's not easy giving up what you do; who you are. I thought I could control it; the patients lose confidence when they see the doctor is sick." He looked at Gerald with a pained expression.

"You know that you won't be able to practice medicine anymore."

"I know, but I don't want it to end like this. Let me just have one more patient, even if it's just to bandage a wound." Gerald sighed.

"Ok, one last patient." They walked back into the building.

Arnold listened outside the curtain. They were still in prayer. He quietly opened the curtain and stood in a corner.

"Amen." The four people raised their heads and opened their eyes. Yvonne stared at him in surprise and the practitioner was not too pleased to see him.

"Excuse me, doctor; I thought we said that Yvonne would not be receiving medication."

"I didn't come to give her any medication. I just want to talk." The parents stared at Arnold suspiciously.

"You can search my pockets; I have no medication."

"It's ok; I don't mind talking to him." They nodded grudgingly and stepped outside the room. Arnold pulled up a chair and sat next to Yvonne. She smiled at him.

"The test results weren't good, were they?"

"No, they weren't."

"I have endocarditis?"

"Yes."

"How long do I have left?"

"A couple of hours if you're lucky." She smiled sadly.

"You must think we're crazy, not accepting any medication." He smiled.

"You might be, or you might know something that everyone else doesn't know." Silence fell between them. Arnold spoke again.

"You go to the college?"

"Yeah, I'm a sophomore."

"What are you studying?"

"Egyptology."

"A useless but beautiful subject." They laughed quietly. Arnold looked at her seriously.

"Are you afraid?" She held out her hand, and he took it.

"Yeah." Her breathing started slowing down. She smiled at Arnold and squeezed his hand a couple of times before falling asleep. He gently removed his hand and motioned for Nadine to come over.

"5:00, Hillwood Medical, Pronounced by Dr. Greene." The parents and the practitioner entered the room. The parents began sobbing and held her hands tightly. Arnold quietly slipped out of the room.

"Our father, who art in heaven..."

"I don't want to get a shot! I don't want to!" The little boy cried in curtain room 2. Gerald walked in followed by Dr. Steiglitz. He smiled at the boy.

"Hey, kiddo. Looks like you need a booster shot."

"I don't want to!" The boy turned away from Gerald and covered his arm. Dr. Steiglitz stepped forward and knelt down next to the boy.

"Let's play a game first." The boy looked up at the kindly, old man.

"Ok."

"Close your eyes, and tell me what you see." The boy closed his eyes, and Dr. Steiglitz quickly prepared the syringe. He squirted the needle once in the air and steadied his hand.

"I see Prometheus. He stole fire from the gods. Zeus chained him to a mountain. Everyday an eagle would come and eat his liver. The liver would grow back, but the eagle would eat it again. It would never stop and Prometheus cried."

"Really, that's pretty bad, huh." He quickly inserted the needle into the boy's shoulder and withdrew it quickly. He used a piece of gauze to wipe away some of the blood. He then placed a bandage on the site of the shot.

"There, all done." The boy opened his eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Derek."

"Derek, I want to thank you."

"For what?"

"For the story and for being my very last patient." He shook hands with the boy and walked out of the room. Gerald stared at his old mentor. 'Still got it', he thought to himself.

Arnold walked out of the building and shivered in the cold night air.

"Walking alone again, football-head?" Helga snuck up behind him. He smiled.

"You always manage to sneak up on me." They fell into step.

"I'm sorry about that girl."

"Yeah, well, they made their choice." Silence. He looked at her intently.

"You know, Helga, my professor at med school told me that sometimes, the hardest thing isn't saving a patient's life; it's knowing when to let them go. I guess that that holds true for everything, not just patients." Helga swallowed a nervous gulp.

"When did you start getting all philosophical, football-head?" They laughed together. Helga spoke up.

"I'm sorry about Lila, Arnold. Phoebe told me about it." He smiled sadly.

"Yeah, I guess that's one thing that I'll have to learn to let go." He turned to her.

"You have anything you need to let go?" She reared back in surprise.

"Um, no, not really." He smiled at her.

"You're lucky then. Good night, Helga."

"Yeah, I'm lucky." She whispered to herself as she watched him walk up the stairs.

He opened the door. The apartment was completely dark. He turned on the lights and hung up his coat. He headed towards the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator looking for a snack when he saw a note taped on to the table. He walked over and opened the note. His eyes widened as he read, and he threw the note down on the table and rushed towards his son's room.

"Short-man?" He opened the door. The room was empty except for some of Sean's toys lying around. He sat down on the side of Sean's bed and cried.


	6. Sins of the Fathers

Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews, especially to those who have been keeping up with the story. Don't own anything but this story.

Episode 6: Sins of the Fathers

"Gerald, you don't have to be so nervous. You can't even tie your tie properly." She chuckled as Gerald struggled to tie his tie.

"I know Pheebs, but I want to make a good impression. The last time we had dinner at your parents' place your father didn't seem to like me that much." He continued struggling with his tie.

"Oh, let me do that." Phoebe reached over and tied his tie. She smiled at him.

"Now, don't worry about impressing my parents. Just be yourself. My mother already likes you, and maybe this time my father will be more open now that your hair is shorter and your clothes are nicer." He chuckled and kissed her.

"Do we really have to go? I mean maybe we should just hit the sack early; it has been a hectic day." She smiled.

"Yes."

"You know, Sid, I really can't thank you enough for this."

"It's not a problem, Arnold, and besides, we've been friends for a long time. It's the least I could do.

"So there really are some good lawyers?" They laughed. They sat quietly on a bench outside the courtroom. Arnold was wearing a black suit and tie. Sid no longer wore a backwards baseball cap and was dressed in similar fashion.

"You remember what we went over? Be respectful, answer the questions directly, and above all, do not lose your temper."

"Yeah, I remember." Sid sighed.

"You know, Arnold, I don't want to sound pessimistic, but in the majority of theses cases, the woman always wins regardless of the circumstance. It's the courts' sick little way of repairing the gender gap." He gave Sid a small smile.

"We'll see pretty soon."

"Thank goodness we finally have coffee." Helga poured herself a hot cup and sat next to Phoebe on the couch.

"Yeah, too bad Arnold isn't here to enjoy it."

"He has his custody case today, doesn't he?" They sipped their coffee quietly.

"Yeah, he won't be in today at all."

"I hope everything turns out ok."

"Yeah, I can't imagine how hard it would be for him if he didn't get to see Sean as often." Phoebe finished her coffee and stood up.

"Well, I'm going to make my rounds."

"Have fun. Oh, aren't you and Gerald having dinner at your parents' tonight?" Phoebe chuckled.

"Yeah, wish me luck." They laughed and Phoebe left the lounge. Helga continued drinking her coffee.

"Dr. Pataki?" Debbie stuck her head into the lounge. Helga looked up.

"We've got an incoming GSW."

"All right, I'm on it." She walked quickly out of the lounge. The EMT's wheeled in a burly, middle aged man with a noticeable bald spot.

"What happened?"

"Gun-shot wound to the chest; this guy gets shot in his beeper store like some mob-style hit. Crazy." Helga looked down at the patient and froze.

"Hey, Doc. Doc, are you all right?" The EMT asked as they moved quickly. Helga shook herself.

"Yeah, yeah I'm all right. Ok, let's move."

"All right, Mr. Richards, I'll let you begin." Walter Richards was a senior partner at her law firm. He was well reputed for having won several large medical mal-practice cases. In short, he wasn't exactly a favorite amongst the medical community.

"Just like rubbing salt in the wounds." Arnold said to himself when he saw Richards pacing around. Lila had probably asked him specifically to represent her, knowing full well what Arnold thought of him. She looked especially beautiful today, wearing a black suit and a somewhat revealing skirt. She was in full lawyer mode.

"Now, Mrs. Greene..." She cut him off.

"Miss Sawyer." He smiled.

"I'm sorry. Miss Sawyer, you and Dr. Greene had been married for nine years, is that correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"And you raised your son for?"

"Six of the nine years."

"And would you say that you had a good relationship with your son?"

"Yes. I was the one who would wake him up in the morning; I picked him up from school and helped him with his homework. I did everything a mother should do." Arnold rolled his eyes and forced himself not to chuckle.

"And why should you have custody over your son rather than your husband?"

"Well, it's important for children to have their mothers. I mean, more and more women are choosing to be single parents while at the same time holding a job; it's not a new issue. Also, I think that I would be able to be there for Sean more often simply because of the nature of my job. The only times I had to work late are during major cases but other than that, I can be there for him more often than my husband who spends more time with drug addicts and drunks than he does with his son." She smirked at him from the stand.

"Miss Sawyer." The judge's voice boomed from his seat.

"Sorry, your honor." Richards smiled quietly.

"That's all for now." Lila walked confidently off the stand. The judge turned to Sid.

"Would you like to cross the witness?" Sid shook his head.

"No, your honor." Arnold looked at him in shock. Sid whispered to him. Arnold nodded reluctantly.

"I call, Dr. Greene to the stand."

"Just relax, Gerald. I'm telling you everything will be fine." They stood outside Phoebe's house. The door opened and an attractive red-head answered the door.

"Phoebe! Oh, it's so good to see you."

"Mother, yes, it has been a long time." The two women embraced.

"Gerald, it's good to see you too. It's been too long." She hugged him tightly.

"Please, come in." They entered the house and hung up their coats.

"Kyo! Your daughter is here, and so is Gerald." Gerald took a deep breath. An older, Japanese man walked slowly down the stairs. He smiled when he saw them.

"Phoebe!" He walked towards her with his arms wide open.

"Father, it's good to see you." They embraced lightly. He looked at Gerald and nodded his head coolly.

"Gerald." They shook hands.

"Well, how about we get started. I'm starving." They walked towards the dining room.

"He's going into shock."

"Crimeny, let's get an IV into him. 2 liters of saline. Call the blood bank; see if they have any O-negative. Let's bag him." Helga inserted the IV into the man's arm, and Debbie prepared the tube for intubation. Helga took the tube and gently eased it into the man's windpipe. While she was doing that, two women banged on the window of Trauma 1, trying to get any information on the patient.

"Get those visitors out of here, Debbie!" Debbie rushed outside and led them to the waiting room.

"Heart-rate's falling; he's losing too much blood." Sheena looked frantically at the monitor.

"Where's my O-negative?"

"They're running low."

"Ok, more saline. Give me some electrolytes as well." The monitor was beeping like crazy.

"He's going into arrest."

"Defibrillator, please." Helga rubbed the pads together.

"1, 2, 3, clear." She plunged the pads on his chest causing him to jerk and the graph to spike.

"Come on, come on." She rubbed the pads together again.

"1, 2, 3, clear." She plunged them again on his chest. The graph rose slightly.

"Crimeny! Come on!" She rubbed the pads together, one last time.

"1, 2, 3, clear!" She plunged them again, but the graph didn't rise.

"He's lost too much blood," Sheena said quietly.

"We are not giving up!" Helga started doing chest compressions.

"Dr. Pataki..." Helga didn't stop.

"Dr. Pataki." She stopped and looked at Sheena with a pained expression.

"12:30 P.M. Time of death. Dr. Helga Pataki. Hillwood Memorial." She sighed heavily and walked out the double doors. Debbie met her on the way out.

"They're asking about him." Helga threw away her gloves and her yellow gown.

"I'll tell them myself."

"Would you like to cross the witness?"

"Yes, your honor, I would." Walter Richards paced around. Arnold took a deep breath.

"Now, Dr. Greene you and your wife were married for nine years, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And how long have you worked at Hillwood Memorial?"

"Seven years. We lived in Connecticut while we finished school."

"Now, Dr. Greene, you are trained in emergency medicine is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"So you specialized? You spent extra years in med school to specialize."

"Yes, that's how it works." Arnold responded with a bit of frustration.

"So you are trained as a family physician as well?"

"Yes, after your internship, you are automatically trained to be a family physician."

"Would you say that the hours of a family physician are greater or less than the hours you put in as an ER doctor?"

"Well, obviously, a family doctor in private practice would not spend as many hours as an ER physician."

"And how is the pay compared to your current salary?"

"I'm not sure. I don't have any numbers with me."

"Well I'm sure you know that you could earn more money in private practice, Dr. Greene."

"It's not all about the money, Mr. Richards." Arnold responded tersely. Richards smiled.

"Tell me Dr. Greene, did you and your wife discuss the option of you going into private practice?"

"Yes, we have."

"What were your wife's main concerns about you remaining in the ER?"

"She was concerned about the hours and the pay. She thought we wouldn't be able to support ourselves comfortably. I told her that we would be fine, and we've been fine for these past years."

"Was this before or after you had your son?"

"Both. We talked about it when we first got married and after Sean turned a year old."

"So your wife was concerned about the hours?"

"Yes, she was, but the hours are not an issue. I spend quality time with my son." Richards smiled slyly.

"So, Dr. Greene would it be fair to say that you were unwilling to sacrifice your job for your family? That you put your profession ahead of your son?"

"That's not true. The hospital is already understaffed; we can't afford to lose anymore doctors."

"You could have easily chosen a path as a private physician early in your marriage."

"Hindsight is certainly twenty-twenty, isn't it?"

"You made a choice, Dr. Greene. You chose your career over your wife and son."

"That's not true." Arnold's voice rose.

"A little jumpy are we? Perhaps you can't handle the truth, Dr. Greene."

"I have been a good father to Sean. I woke him up, made him breakfast, helped him with his homework, and tucked him in at night while his mother was doing God knows what." The judge banged his gavel.

"Gentlemen, I've heard quite enough. Please, return to your places." Richards grinned at Lila and walked towards his seat. Arnold sighed and sat next to Sid.

"Based on the arguments I have heard, I will come to a decision in an hour. Court is in recess until further notice."

"That was a lovely dinner, mother." The four of them sat back at the table.

"Yes, Mrs. Heyerdahl, it was delicious."

"Well, I'm glad someone appreciates my cooking." She shot a playful glance at her husband.

"I thought you already knew." They laughed. Mrs. Heyerdahl stood up.

"Who wants to help with the dishes?" Gerald rose to his feet.

"I'll help. It's the least I can do after a meal like that."

"I'll help as well, mother." Phoebe stood up but stopped when her father raised his hand.

"Phoebe, can we talk? In private?" She gave him a surprised look but nodded her head. They walked out of the dining room.

"I think you know what I'm about to ask." He gave her a stern look.

"You do this every time, father, of course I know, and you should know that my answer is the same." He sighed.

"It's just that you can do so much better." Phoebe shot her father an angry look.

"It's not about doing better. It's about being happy."

"And you can be happy with someone else."

"Gerald is a good person. Why can't you see that? Mother loves him."

"It's not that, Phoebe. I just think you could do better. What about Mark? You were happy with him in college. He seemed perfect for you. Stockbroker, on his way up the company." Phoebe sighed in frustration.

"I only went out with Mark because you and mother liked him so much."

"Even at his worst, he's better than Gerald."

"How can you talk about him like that? Before the dinner, Gerald was so nervous about meeting with you that he couldn't even tie his tie properly. He just wants to win your approval." Phoebe was growing increasingly irate.

"I want the best for you, Phoebe, and he is not the best you can get. I taught you to strive for the best in everything; in school; in sports; in clubs; in your friends. You never disappointed me, Phoebe. Why do you insist on disappointing me now?" She was ready snap.

"That's all I've been doing, father. All those grades, the fencing, the clubs; even going into medicine. I cheated on a poetry contest just to please you." He reared back in shock.

"I thought you always wanted to be a doctor."

"I love what I do, but sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I didn't. I wonder if I would have had the strength to tell you that I wanted to do something else. I wonder if I would have the strength to stay with Gerald now despite your disapproval." His face dropped at those words. His features hardened.

"If you choose him, you are no daughter of mine." Tears started welling up in her eyes.

"Fine!" She stormed off.

"Phoebe..." He cut off his own words and stared silently as his only daughter walked away from him.

Helga stood in front of the waiting room doors and took a deep breath.

"Ok, you can do this." She opened the door and walked slowly into the room. Her mother was wiping tears from her eyes, while her sister was trying to comfort her. Beside her were her husband, Martin, and their twin boys. Helga cleared her throat and they looked up quickly.

"Hi." Olga ran towards her and caught her in a tearful hug.

"Oh, baby sister, it is so good to see you! I didn't know that you were working here!" She buried her head on Helga's shoulder. Helga tried to squirm away but couldn't escape her sister's tight embrace.

"It's good to see you too, I guess." Olga broke off the embrace and looked at Helga with pleading eyes.

"So how is he? Did he make it?" Helga sighed.

"I'm sorry. He was bleeding too much, and his heart gave out." At those words Olga buried her head into Helga's shoulder again. Her husband came over and pulled Olga away, trying to console her. Helga looked down at her feet. Her mother ran over towards her in a craze.

"Helga, please tell me this isn't true. Helga, please?" She sobbed into her daughter's shoulder. Helga sighed. Her coat was getting wet with tears.

"Look. Mir-, I mean, Mom. We did everything we could. I'm sorry." Helga pulled away from her mother.

"I have to make my rounds. I'll check on you guys later." Helga turned and left quickly. She stopped in the corner and sighed again.

"I did everything I could, but why do I still feel like I didn't. And why can't I cry over my own father's death?"

Arnold fidgeted nervously as he waited for the judge's decision. Lila, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm. Their eyes met accidentally and she gave him a little smirk. He turned away quickly.

"Sid, I got torn to shreds up there." Sid sighed.

"I'm sorry Arnold, but Richards is at the top of his game. I was afraid that would happen." They became silent as the judge reentered the room and sat in his chair. He scanned the room and took a deep breath before he began.

"I have been a judge for almost thirty years. I have to say that in all my years, my least favorite cases are custody disputes. Nobody wins here; the father and the mother are angry if either of them loses time with their child. The child loses when he can't see his mommy or daddy as often as he or she would like. Decisions like these are never easy on anyone. Who am I to decide which parent loves his or her child more? Who am I to decide how the child will be raised?" He paused and took a sip of water before continuing."

"But the law says that I must decide. This particular case was not easy for me." He turned towards Arnold.

"Dr. Greene, I must commend you on your efforts as a father. Many men in your situation would have used their work to excuse the lack of time they spend with their children. It is refreshing to see a good father in a time where fatherhood has been so often neglected and unwanted." Arnold nodded his head in thanks.

"However, I must look out for the interests of the child. Dr. Greene, as much as you love your son, as much as you devote all your free time to him, it is true that your job requires a significant amount of time. Time spent working late nights in the hospital. Time spent away from your son. Your wife also has a demanding job. However, her profession as a lawyer has a degree of flexibility that yours as a physician does not. You as a physician are always on call; anytime of the day, twenty-four/seven." He paused again.

"It is due to the extent of your work schedule Dr. Greene and the fact that Miss Sawyer's profession allows for more flexibility that I award full custody of Sean Greene to Miss Lila Sawyer. Dr. Greene, you will have full visitation rights on weekends, and any other times at the discretion of Miss Sawyer. This court is adjourned." He banged his gavel and walked slowly off the steps. Lila smiled triumphantly and hugged her attorney. Arnold sighed and held his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Arnold. I, I should have done more." Sid put his hand on Arnold's shoulder.

"No. No, it's all-right, Sid. You did what you could. And besides I can still see him on weekends." He looked up at Sid with a half-smile. Sid grinned half-heartedly.

"Sometimes, for your sake, I wish you weren't always such an optimist."

"Pheebs, slow down. What happened back there?" Gerald called as he struggled to catch up to her. She slowed down to let him catch up. She sighed.

"I'm sorry, Gerald. It's my father again. Sometimes he just drives me up the wall." He put his arm around her and they continued walking.

"I guess it's me again?"

"It's not you; it's him."

"Look Pheebs, maybe one day he'll come around." She sniffed back some tears.

"It's just that I've spent my whole life trying to prove myself to him, and it's never good enough." Gerald wiped away a tear running down her cheek.

"You don't have to prove anything to anybody. You especially shouldn't have to prove anything to your father."

"Thanks, Gerald." She buried her head into his shoulder and he held her tightly for a long time.

"Helga, why don't you go home?"

"Vince, I'm fine." They walked out of the OR after an appendectomy.

"I can't imagine you would be after losing your father." She shot him a frustrated look.

"I'm fine. I've got two more operations and then I'll go home."

"I can get them, Helga. Go home. Talk to your family. Don't come back until you're feeling better."

"Vince."

"I don't want to hear it. Go home, Helga." Helga sighed and threw away her glove.

"All-right, Vince." She walked off to the lounge and changed out of her scrubs. She drank a cup of water from the large water jug and walked quickly out of the lounge.

"Good-night, Debbie." The nurse smiled.

"Good-night, Dr. Pataki. I'm sorry about your father."

"Yeah, thanks." Helga walked quickly out of the double doors, not even noticing the well dressed man entering at the same time. He looked quickly in surprise at her but shrugged his shoulders and continued inside.

"Dr. Greene? I thought you weren't coming in today?"

"Well, Debbie, I don't really have much else to do, so I figured why not." Arnold signed his name on the marker board. He read through some charts lying around the desk and started walking towards exam room 2, when Wartz entered and called him out.

"Greene, you're not supposed to be in today."

"Well, I don't really have anywhere else to go, Vince." Vince examined him carefully.

"Straight out of court?"

"You noticed?"

"You didn't even bother to change."

"I don't really have anything to look forward to at home." Vince sighed.

"You're the second doctor here who's throwing themselves into the job to cover something up."

"I'll go home eventually Vince, I just want to help out."

"Hiding out here isn't going to solve anything."

"You're starting to sound like me." Vince chuckled.

"Maybe you're starting to rub off on me." Arnold put the chart down.

"I guess I'll head home."

"You do that, and talk to Pataki if you get a chance. Her father died today." Arnold stepped back in surprise.

"What? How did that happen?"

"He was shot in his beeper store." Arnold shook his head.

"Well, I better catch up to Helga. She didn't even notice me when I walked in. Thanks, Vince." He turned and walked quickly out of the ER.

"Helga, wait!" She was several blocks ahead of him and he ran to catch up to her. She looked back and quickly turned around.

"Helga, aren't you going to slow down?" He managed to catch up to her and they walked in silence for a while. She turned to him with a tired expression.

"I'm sorry, Arnold. I guess I have a lot on my mind." They stood face to face on the sidewalk.

"I'm sorry about your father, Helga." She smiled sadly.

"Always like you to put others before yourself, football-head." He smiled grimly.

"Yeah, and it cost me custody of Sean."

"I'm sorry about that. The courts are never fair." Silence fell again.

"I just wish I could have done more. I let that lawyer tear me to shreds and I couldn't do anything about it." She looked away quickly and stopped walking.

"Why didn't I shock him earlier?" She was speaking in a near whisper.

"What?"

"I didn't shock him until it was too late, Arnold. I should have shocked him."

"Was he bleeding badly?" She nodded her head.

"Your priority was to stop the bleeding. Then, you shock them. You did the right thing, Helga." She turned to him with a pleading look.

"It's not that, Arnold. It's the fact that I don't know that if I would have shocked him if I could." Arnold raised an eye.

"How can you say that, Helga? Of course you would." She shook her head rapidly.

"I don't know if I would. I mean, I never really loved my father, Arnold."

"Of course you did, Helga."

"I couldn't even cry when he died. My mother and Olga were running faucets and I couldn't even shed one tear."

"People grieve in different ways. Maybe you're not a crier." She stared at her feet and shook her head.

"My father was right about me; he was right that I was nothing compared to Olga; I mean look at me; I'm not married; I don't have any kids..." Arnold cut her off.

"And you're a skilled trauma surgeon who saves lives." She continued on as if she didn't hear him.

"The fact that he died under my care just proves that he was right about me." Arnold decided that he had heard enough.

"That's enough, Helga. You did your best already."

"At least you have Sean to love you, I don't have anyone."

"That's not true."

"I couldn't even hug my mother or my sister. I don't know my twin nephews."

"That's enough..."

"I could barely perform an appendectomy today."

"That's enough..."

"God, I'm pathetic; both as a doctor and as a person."

"That's enough! Stop it!"

"I..." She was cut off when he pulled her roughly towards him and kissed her hard on the mouth.


	7. It's All In Your Head

Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews. I appreciate both the criticism and praise. I will try to implement some of your suggestions, such as adding an extra space between scene transitions. And yes, Dr. Steiglitz was sort of my way of paying homage to Alan Alda's character, Dr. Gabriel Lawrence who suffered from Alzheimer's. As always, I will try to do better. Don't own anything but the story.

Episode 7: It's All in Your Head

"You always were one bold kid, Arnold." Gerald chuckled as he smashed the racquetball down the wall.

"And you always loved saying that." They laughed as the little blue ball whizzed around the court.

"It's true, man. Of all of us, I always thought you'd be the first to kiss Helga Pataki." Arnold volleyed the ball into the corner.

"I didn't plan on doing that; I was listening to her destroy herself, and I couldn't take it any longer. It was the only way to shut her up." Gerald grinned.

"Well, most people would use their hands, unless they have other motives." Arnold gave him a weird look.

"It's been kind of awkward, everytime we run into each other. We can barely say hello to each other."

"Did you expect anything else?" Arnold sighed.

"No, but I wish it didn't have to happen under those circumstances."

"But you're not entirely disappointed that it happened?" Gerald gave him a silly grin. It was hard for Arnold to stay serious.

"How can you think of something like that when all I was trying to do was make Helga feel better?"

"Oh I don't know; Single guy, recently divorced, just lost custody of his son, and looking for comfort."

"Gerald."

"Ok, ok. It's only natural."

"I'm not looking for a relationship right now. It's too soon."

"I know, man. But if you were, you couldn't go wrong with Helga. I mean, look at her."

"Yeah, she's a real swan. I mean, she wasn't that bad in high school either. The unibrow was gone; she was starting to wear her hair down occasionally; she was even a little nicer to everyone. If I wasn't with..." At that point he looked up to see the blue ball flying towards his face. He raised his racquet at the last minute to deflect it. He turned angrily at Gerald who was laughing.

"What was that for?" Gerald caught his breath after laughing.

"Man, you should have seen yourself. You had this really dreamy expression, and your eyes were turned up towards the ceiling."

"I was just thinking of what might have been."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm serious; nothing more, nothing less."

"Well, if you're done dreaming about Helga, you can start dreaming about losing." He bounced the ball as he stood in the server's box. Arnold chuckled.

"We'll see."

"Phoebe, can I talk to you?" Vincent Wartz's voice boomed as he marched down the hallway. She looked up from the file that she was looking at behind the admit desk.

"What is it, Vince?"

"It's about Greene and Pataki." Her face fell.

"Oh, what seems to be the problem?"

"Cut the crap, Phoebe. Something's up with those two. They're barely speaking to each other. They're more awkward around each other now than I was on my first date."

"You weren't that awkward, were you, Vince?" She chuckled. He waved it off.

"I could care less what's going on between them. What I do care is their ability to function as professionals. Their ability to put whatever happened between them aside when dealing with a patient."

"Arnold and Helga are both very professional, Vince. It won't get in the way of their ability to treat patients." He smirked.

"I sure hope not. The last thing we need around here is a soap opera." He turned around and marched off. Phoebe sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, Vince was right. They couldn't let whatever happened between them compromise their ability to treat patients as a team. She walked towards the lounge. Inside, Helga was pouring herself some coffee.

"Helga." She looked up at Phoebe.

"Oh, hey, Pheebs. You want some coffee?"

"Sure, that'd be nice." She gave Phoebe a steaming cup and they sat on the sofa.

"So Helga how is everything?"

"Fine." Helga replied nonchalantly. Phoebe gave her a skeptical stare.

"Really, Helga?"

"Yeah, Pheebs, I'm fine. Are you implying that something's wrong? Did I miss a patient?" Phoebe sighed.

"I'm talking about Arnold." Helga looked away.

"What about the football-head?" Her tone turned defensive.

"Ever since that little incident, you two are barely speaking to each other. And when you do, it's extremely awkward and uncomfortable. I'm concerned, Helga."

"You're concerned?"

"Yes."

"As a friend or as the chief of emergency medicine?"

"Both. But as the chief, it's my job to ensure that our staff is performing at peak efficiency. Right now, I'm not sure that we are." Helga sighed.

"So, what do you want me to do?"

"Just try to act normal, like nothing happened." Helga rolled her eyes.

"Great advice, Pheebs."

"Well, that's my advice as a doctor. My advice as a friend is to talk to him. You're confused about what happened, and I'm sure he is too. Talk to him, Helga." She looked at Helga intently.

"It was in the heat of the moment, Pheebs. That's what he'll say, just like what he said after I told him how I felt on top of the FTI building."

"That was a long time ago, Helga. We were only nine. We couldn't tell true love from like-like."

"It doesn't matter, Pheebs. Look, I'll try to act normal around Arnold. I really will."

"And what about talking to him?" Helga sighed.

"We'll see about that." She stood up and rinsed out her mug before placing it on the rack.

"Better start my rounds." She waved to Phoebe before she left. Phoebe sighed.

"Now, who's acting like they're only nine?" She said quietly to herself.

"So who won your game today?" Troy asked as Gerald looked at some files.

"Same as always; tied at 2-2 and just when we're about to play the fifth, we realize that it's time for our shift."

"But you had the momentum going your way, right?" Troy looked at Gerald with a smile.

"Always." They laughed. The dispatch phone rang and Troy went over to answer. He listened quietly and hung up.

"We got a 21 year old boxer knocked out in the ring, unconscious, hemorrhaging, on his way from the gym."

"I thought they wore headgear."

"I thought they didn't punch that hard." The EMT's burst through the double doors, wheeling in a young Hispanic man strapped onto the stretcher. He was unconscious and had been bleeding badly. Phoebe walked over towards the stretcher. She shined her penlight into his eyes.

"His pupils are blown; we need to intubate." Gerald came over and started inserting the tube down his windpipe.

"Let's get a head CT on this kid. Tell the OR to get ready."

"Lidocaine to decrease the ICP."

"I got this, Pheebs. Ok, Sheena, let's move." They wheeled the young man towards the elevator. Phoebe turned around and nearly ran into a short, balding, older Hispanic man.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Please, please, how is my son?"

"We're taking him to get a head CT to see if there was any permanent brain damage. Your son is suffering from an increase in intracranial pressure from the blood that leaked out when his blood vessels were damaged. He may need surgery to relieve the pressure. There's also a chance that he may have permanent brain damage." The man's face sank. His voice quivered as he spoke.

"I wanted to throw in the towel; to stop the fight. He wouldn't listen; stubborn pride; he was losing in the first few rounds; I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. He watched Rocky too many times. He just kept getting battered, pounded in there. He told me not to throw the towel under any circumstances; I can't forget how that sounded when that guy's fist hit my son's head. God!" He started crying and held his head in his hands. Phoebe put a hand on his shoulder.

"Why don't we sit down?"

"Hey, Troy. Sorry, I'm late." Arnold walked past the admit desk.

"No worries. How was your game with Johanssen?"

"Well, it was tied 2-2 like it always is and then it's time for us to get ready for the shift?"

"But you had the momentum going your way, right?" Arnold smiled.

"Of course." Troy suppressed a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Troy opened his mouth when the doors burst open and a man in his thirties was strapped onto the stretcher. His hands were shackled with physical restraints. He was breathing quite noisily and rocking his body in almost every direction. His glasses were smashed and his face was bleeding. A police officer walked beside him.

"What happened here?"

"This creep has been prowling around the school looking at the kids. Apparently, he goes behind the girls and starts breathing down their necks. Scares the crap out of them. Well, this one girl, she doesn't take any crap from this guy. She turns around, socks him in the face."

"Hmm, do we really need to take him?"

"Well, just clean his cuts. Then we'll take care of him. Damn perverts running around the school yard." Arnold frowned at the young man. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

"Ok, I'll take it from here, officer. Thanks." He wheeled the young man into exam room 1.

"Nadine, could I get some help here?" She entered the room.

"Let's get an IV of haloperidol. Also, benzodiazepine for sedation. And bandage up his face." She nodded and left. The young man continued to breathe heavily and move awkwardly. Arnold stared at him for a minute and shook his head quickly. There was something strangely familiar about him. He walked quickly out of the room and headed into the bathroom. He splashed some cold water onto his face and exhaled loudly.

"Excuse me? Can we get a doctor here?" A young woman was helping her mother walk.

"What's the problem?" Debbie looked up from the desk.

"My mother's been complaining that her legs feel weak and a bit numb. Her face is also numb and her speech is a bit slurred."

"It sounds like she could be having a stroke. How long has she felt this way?"

"We just caught it."

"Dr. Pataki? Can you take a look at this lady? I think she's showing early stages of a stroke." Helga looked up from her chart and walked over. She smiled kindly at the woman.

"Ok, Debbie, why don't we get a CT to rule out any hemorrhage. Also, let's do a cardiac workup with an ECG and echo, ultrasound, and an EEG. Afterwards, let's get her started on rTPA." The older woman looked concerned.

"Will these tests really help?"

"I think so, ma'am. The rTPA will help dissolve the blood clot in the anterior cerebral artery. I'll check on you in a couple of hours."

"How is he?" Phoebe looked at Gerald intently. He sighed heavily.

"We managed to release the pressure and stop the bleeding." He paused.

"Well, and?"

"He hasn't woken up yet." Phoebe frowned.

"It's been almost 3 hours."

"I know." He sighed again. "It doesn't look good, Pheebs. A few more hours, and we could be looking at a coma."

"His family is waiting outside."

"Do you want me to talk to them?"

"No, I'll do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Gerald. I'll do it." She walked towards the waiting room. She saw the father holding hands and praying alongside his wife. She sat down beside them and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Heyerdahl. I was the one who talked to you earlier." He looked up and forced a smile.

"How is he, doctor?" She sighed.

"The surgery was successful. Now we're just waiting for him to wake up.

"So he's going to be all right?" The young man's mother interjected hopefully.

"What we're worried about is that he hasn't woken up yet." Their faces fell.

"What are you saying, doctor?" She steadied herself.

"I'm saying that he could be falling into a coma." The couple was silent. Phoebe continued.

"When you signed the release forms, you were warned that in cases like these, the patient could descend into a coma. We are legally obligated to keep the patient alive unless you sign a form saying you wish for him to be taken off life-support."

"So he is dead?"

"Not exactly, sir. His vital systems are still functioning; it's just that there is no mental activity present."

"So, my son is a vegetable?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Take him off life-support." The mother whirled around, stunned.

"Julio!"

"My son is not a vegetable. I will not let him live like this."

"Julio, please. We can't make these decisions hastily." He turned towards his wife.

"Marina, can't you see that that's not our son anymore? That is just a body that needs a machine to breathe for it; that needs an IV to give it fluids. That is not our Roberto."

"There's always a chance that he would wake up, isn't there?" She looked pleadingly at Phoebe.

"Well, Mrs. Chavez, there is. But there is also a chance that he might not." She held her head in her hands and began crying again. The father spoke up.

"I want to see him. Then we will decide."

"How is he?" Arnold asked Nadine outside exam room 1.

"He just got up. The movements and convulsions have stopped."

"Ok, good. I'm going to talk to him." He opened the door and picked up the young man's chart. He stared at the name on the chart.

"Well, Craig, are you feeling better?" The young man stared at Arnold. He wheezed heavily and nodded his head.

"That's good. You know, Craig, did you have a nickname back in school?" The young man nodded his head. Arnold sat down beside him.

"Brainy, wasn't it?" He nodded again.

"Well, I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but I'm Arnold. Arnold Greene. You remember me, don't you?" The young man smiled slightly and nodded.

"You took quite a punch today. I'm glad you're feeling better now."

"Excuse me." Arnold looked up at the police officer who stuck his head in.

"He's mine now, doctor. If you'll just discharge him, I'll take him and be out of your way."

"Just a minute, officer. I just want to talk with him for a bit. Give me five minutes." The officer nodded his head reluctantly and left. Arnold turned towards him.

"Forgive me for asking, Brainy, but why did you scare that girl?" He wheezed heavily and struggled to answer.

"She _wheeze wheeze_ reminded me of _wheeze wheeze_ Helga." Arnold raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Really? Helga? Why Helga?"

"By _wheeze wheeze_ herself; in _wheeze_ corner, watching somebody, _wheeze_, never telling, _wheeze_." Arnold frowned.

"Well, Brainy, I can't say that I understand exactly what you're saying. But, I hope you get better." He stood up to leave, feeling a bit uncomfortable. As he started to leave, Brainy spoke again.

"It _wheeze_ was you. It was always _wheeze_ you." Arnold turned around.

"What does that mean?"

"She only watched _wheeze_ you." Arnold scratched his head in confusion. He didn't understand Brainy at all.

"Ok, Brainy. I hope you feel better." He walked away quickly trying to forget Brainy's cryptic statements while at the same time trying to make sense of them.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Bliss?" Helga walked into the room holding the chart. The old lady looked up and smiled.

"Better now, thank you." She replied in a tired yet firm voice. Helga sat down beside her bed.

"You were lucky that you came in early. Any later, and it would have been much worse."

"Well, I guess all my years of training weren't a complete waste, then." Helga raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"I didn't know you were a doctor."

"I was a psychologist at the medical center for about twenty years and worked at PS 118 for about ten more years after." Helga raised her eyes in shock.

"Dr. Bliss? My god, it's really you." The old lady looked confused.

"I'm sorry, but did we know each other before?" Helga smiled sheepishly.

"Dr. Bliss, it's me, Helga Pataki. Remember, the girl with the one eyebrow? We talked for a while about my problems with a boy I had a crush on." The old lady squinted at her for a while and her eyes eventually beamed with clarity and remembrance.

"Helga Pataki? My goodness, you've grown. I can't believe I didn't recognize you at first."

"Well, it's been a little over twenty years."

"Yes, it has." They were silent for a while.

"So how have you been, Helga?" Helga paused before answering.

"I'm doing as well as I can. My father died recently on my watch."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Helga smiled grimly.

"It's all right. People die sometimes. It's just part of the job."

"Unfortunately." Silence again.

"What ever happened to that boy you liked, Arnold was his name?" Helga gulped.

"Yeah, actually he's an attending right here at Memorial."

"How are things with you two? Have you talked to him?" Helga looked away.

"We're friends, I guess. It's a lot easier for me to talk to him now than it was when I was nine." They chuckled. Dr. Bliss looked at Helga seriously.

"Do you still love him?"

"I don't know. I thought I was over him. It was just a silly childhood crush. I told myself throughout junior high and high school to forget about him, that he was never going to like me that way."

"But you became friends as you grew older?"

"Yeah. I guess it just happened because I just accepted that we'd never be together."

"What about now? Are you both single?"

"He just underwent a pretty bad divorce from his wife. It's kind of funny; she was the girl that he always liked but never liked him back until high school." She shook her head quickly and smiled at Dr. Bliss.

"I'm sorry; I'm burdening you with all this excess baggage. I should let you get some rest."

"No, it's all right. It's almost like an old session. You're not nearly as combative as you used to be." They laughed.

"I guess the terms "doctor" and "patient" are always relative."

"They are, sometimes. You know, Helga, if you ever need to talk, you can always come to me." She smiled.

"Thanks."

Phoebe stood silently behind the couple as they watched their son. The mother was crying and resting her head on her son's chest. He was hooked up with breathing tubes and IV lines. The father stood stoically beside the bed, fighting back tears.

"Roberto, forgive me. I can't bear to see you like this. I watched you grow up; I taught you how to box; this was your ticket out of here. You were going to be a boxer in the Navy. And now, it's all gone. You're gone." His voice began to quiver, but he continued.

"We taught you to live your life to its fullest. But this, this is not living. Your heart is beating; your lungs are breathing, but your mind is not thinking." He took a deep breath.

"We love you, Roberto. We will meet again. I promise." He held his wife tightly and they kissed their son's forehead. He nodded to Phoebe. Phoebe motioned for Sheena to come over and turn off the IV's and the breathing machine. She walked slowly out of the room and ran into Wartz.

"What happened in there?"

"They wanted their son off life-support."

"And you let them?"

"What else am I supposed to do? Patients have the option, Vince."

"We're supposed to keep them alive as long as possible."

"They didn't want that."

"We could get sued. They could twist their story around."

"I doubt it, Vince."

"You should have consulted me, Phoebe." She sighed in frustration.

"So I consult you. Then what, Vince? I get to listen to you lecture the parents on the importance of keeping their son on life support when they don't want to hear it. I get to see you disregard their wishes by refusing to take him off life support and taking all the credit when he wakes up."

"The ends justify the means, Phoebe. You know that." Phoebe paused before answering.

"That may be true, Vince. But the means make us who we are." She turned and walked away quickly, leaving Vince with his thoughts.

"Dr. Pataki?" Helga looked up from her prescription requests.

"Yes, Troy?"

"Your sister called and left a message. They've made all the arrangements for your father's funeral and they want to know if you're ok with everything."

"Thanks, Troy. I'll call her back when my shift is over." At that moment, Arnold walked behind the desk. They looked at each other and smiled half-heartedly.

"Hey."

"Hey." Awkward silence filled the room. Troy felt the tension and quickly walked towards the soda machine.

"Look, Helga, about what happened..."

"No, Arnold, it's ok. I mean, I was acting pretty immature and we should just act normal." Arnold was surprised at her response.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. We're still friends, right?"

"Yeah." She gave him a tired smile. He looked concerned.

"You all-right?"

"Well, Olga just called and said that they made funeral arrangements for my father."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Well, it had to be done."

"Yeah." They stood side by side behind the desk. A calm silence fell between them amidst the noisiness of the room.

"You know, if you need someone to go with you to the service or just anyone to talk to, you can come to me." He looked at her intently. She smiled.

"Always the concerned one, eh?"

"Always."

"Thanks, Arnold."

"My pleasure. Well, I've got a few more patients before I'm off so I better get to it."

"Yeah, football-head. No rest for the weary."

"Ha-ha. I'll talk to you later, Helga." He walked out from behind the desk and towards curtain room 2. She continued filling her charts, stopping occasionally to watch only him.


	8. Reasons for Living

Author's Note: Again, thanks for your reviews. I really appreciate them. Don't own anything but this story.

Episode 8: Reasons for Living

"Mrs. Higgins?" The maid called. She walked up the stairs toward the master bedroom. She knocked softly on the door.

"Mrs. Higgins? Breakfast is ready." She knocked on the door again. No response. She frowned.

"Mrs. Higgins?" She knocked harder on the door. Still no response. She started to get worried and banged on the door.

"Mrs. Higgins!" When she didn't get a response, she took out her keys and quickly unlocked the door. She gasped at what she saw. Prostrate across the bed was a woman in her thirties with raven black hair wearing a red sweater. She was clearly unconscious and beside her on the night-stand were a nearly empty bottle of aspirin and quarter full glass of scotch.

"Oh, my god." The maid ran quickly and looked at the bottle of pills. She ran over to the phone and began dialing.

"Yes, yes, this is Mabel at the Higgins Residence. Yes, I need an ambulance over right away. Mrs. Higgins has overdosed on aspirin. No, she's not conscious. Yes. Ok, please hurry! Please!" She hung up the phone quickly and sat beside the unconscious body. She sighed.

"You poor dear, I knew that he would do this to you."

Helga groaned as she hit the snooze button on her alarm clock. A few more minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt. Besides, she wouldn't have much to look forward to when she got up. It was the morning of her father's funeral. The rain was falling heavily outside and the dark gray clouds covered the sun. Helga rolled out of bed and walked over towards the window.

"Perfect." She sighed as she looked outside at the falling rain.

"Can you believe this weather?" Troy at the desk was complaining out loud to nobody.

"Well, we needed the rain. It hasn't rained in weeks." Phoebe replied matter of factly.

"Yeah, but I don't like it coming down at once. And I don't like the darkness."

"Just be glad you're in here and not out there."

"Tell me about it." She looked up to see Arnold taking a long drink at the water fountain.

"How much longer is your shift?" She walked next to him.

"I'm on for half an hour and then I'm done. Then, I'll take a nap for a few hours before going to the funeral."

"Oh, are you going with Helga?"

"Yeah, she needs someone right now so I told her that I'd go." Phoebe smiled.

"You want to leave now? I can cover for you."

"No, it's all right. My shift is almost over."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm going to be in the lounge so if anything happens, let me know." He walked off in the direction of the lounge. He removed his stethoscope from around his neck and put on the table. He collapsed on the couch and propped his legs up on one of the arms.

"A short nap couldn't hurt." He closed his eyes and was just about to sleep when Nadine knocked on the door.

"Dr. Greene?" He sighed and turned around quickly.

"What is it Nadine?"

"We've got a woman coming in who OD'd on aspirin. She's unconscious, possibly a combination of aspirin and alcohol."

"Is Phoebe out there?"

"She got called into a meeting." Arnold sighed.

"How convenient." He rolled off the couch, grabbed his stethoscope, and walked quickly out the door.

Helga sipped her coffee and flipped aimlessly through the newspaper. She pushed aside the paper and sighed. She removed a small piece of paper from her pocket and read it over carefully. She still didn't know why Olga wanted her to deliver the eulogy. She kept telling her what a great writer she was and how she could find the right words. The problem was that words were just words. She folded the note and put it back in her pocket. It was 9 AM. Two more hours until the funeral.

"What's going on?" Arnold walked quickly towards the EMT's wheeling in the patient.

"OD on aspirin and alcohol, maid finds her passed out in her room half an hour ago." He stared hard at the patient. His eyes lit up in recognition.

"Rhonda?" He said to himself. The maid ran frantically beside him.

"Please, doctor. Please tell me that she is going to be all right."

"Well ma'am, it's good that you brought her in early. We're going to do everything we can. I promise." He turned to Nadine, who was also staring at Rhonda in shock.

"Ok, let's get some activated charcoal. IV fluids with sodium bicarbonate and glucose. Also let's get an ABG, CBC, electrolytes, prothrombin time, and chest and abdominal films." Nadine nodded and inserted the IV. She was about to walk off towards the elevator when Arnold put a hand on her shoulder.

"You all right, Nadine?"

"Yeah, I'm just still in shock."

"That's normal. How long has it been since you've talked to Rhonda?" She sighed.

"We haven't talked since she got married to Rex. That makes it about eight years, I guess."

"Well, I think that now would be a good time to start talking again." Nadine looked at Arnold with a solemn expression.

"Rhonda lives in her world, and I live in mine. That's how it's always been between us; to Rhonda, she was doing me a favor being my friend. She's Mrs. Rex Smythe-Higgins, society page debutante. I'm just Nadine, overworked, underpaid, emergency room nurse." Arnold sighed.

"Come on, Nadine, don't start that up again. You two have been friends since we were nine."

"It's just too awkward now."

"Just talk to her. She needs a friendly face now." She sighed.

"All-right. For old time's sake."

"Was that Rhonda Lloyd-Higgins who just came in?" Wartz stared incredulously at the print-out.

"One and the same." Phoebe replied dryly. Wartz shook his head.

"I still don't see what caused her to snap."

"Well, Vince, maybe she was in pain."

"You're rationalizing suicide?"

"I'm didn't say that it was right. I'm just saying that Rhonda's life isn't easy." Wartz suppressed a laugh.

"Are you kidding me? What part of her life is difficult? Too much time to go shopping? Missed ladies lunch at the country club? Give me a break, Phoebe."

"Rhonda's been depressed, Vince. Besides, her marriage with Rex has never been particularly enjoyable. Maybe he did something that pushed her over the edge. Anyway, it's not a healthy environment for her."

"The only sickness that Rhonda Lloyd-Higgins has is trophy wives' syndrome. Be happy that you don't have it yet, Phoebe." He turned around and walked off shaking his head and chuckling to himself. Phoebe stared at him and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, baby sister!" Olga ran over and hugged her sister tightly. Helga cringed at first but eventually gave in to the suffocating embrace. After a while, Olga released her hold.

"Did you finish writing it, Helga?"

"Yeah, it took me a while, but I got it done."

"That's great. I knew you'd find the right words." An awkward silence fell between them. Helga spoke up first.

"So where's Mir-, I mean, mom?"

"She's in the back." She paused. "It's been pretty hard on her."

"I can imagine." Silence again fell between them.

"Look, Helga, I realize that I haven't been the greatest sister." Helga fought the urge to smirk and remained silent. Olga turned to her with a pained expression.

"I know that we're really not that close. I really tried, Helga. I did. Even when you said I embarrassed you when I was substituting at P.S.118. I just wish things could have turned out differently." Helga turned towards her and gave her a small smile. A few years ago, she might have been sarcastic or unforgiving.

"It's all right, Olga. I mean you did try hard, sometimes too hard to make us close. It wasn't your fault that he never paid any attention to me."

"But it was, Helga. Even if I didn't intentionally steal attention from you, it still happened because of me."

"This is all in the past, Olga. Why are you bringing this up now?"

"I just wanted to do it before it was too late. Daddy never got to tell you how he really felt about you." Helga gently touched her sister's shoulder.

"Thanks." They embraced lightly.

"Now, let's go check on mom."

Arnold gently opened the door in the recovery room. Rhonda was resting quietly while the maid was sitting beside her. She looked up and smiled at Arnold.

"Mrs. Higgins, wake up. The doctor's here to see you." She gently shook Rhonda's arm. Rhonda opened her eyes. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes.

"Arnold?" He smiled at her.

"It's been a long time, Rhonda."

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this."

"Believe me; I've seen people in much worse shape."

"Did my husband call?"

"No, we've been trying to get in touch with him; so far no luck." She smirked.

"It figures." Arnold realized that he had touched upon a sensitive subject.

"Well, there is someone here to see you. Someone who I'm sure you'll be happy to see and whom you've known for a long time." She had a puzzled expression and Arnold beckoned towards the doorway. Nadine walked in. Rhonda's face lit up.

"Nadine? Nadine, it's good to see you." Nadine smiled.

"It's good to see you too, Rhonda."

"Come, sit down. We have a lot to catch up on." The maid whispered something in Rhonda's ear and walked out of the room. Arnold smiled at the scene and checked his watch. It was nearly eleven o'clock and he was almost late.

"Well, ladies, if you'll excuse me." He slipped quietly out of the room and hurried out.

"And now, Helga Pataki will deliver the eulogy." The priest walked away from the podium and gave Helga small smile of encouragement as she passed him on the way up. She swallowed nervously as she stared at the pews full of mourners. There were relatives she hadn't seen since she was a little girl. There were employees of his beeper store. Olga and Miriam were sitting in the front row along with her twin boys and her husband. She scanned the entire crowd, looking for him. He was late. She steadied herself with a deep breath.

"It wasn't easy for me to write this. We weren't very close, my father and I. In fact, there were times when I felt that our relationship was nonexistent. There were times when I wished that I wasn't a Pataki, that he wasn't my father." She paused before continuing.

"But I'm not here to analyze my relationship with my father. I'm here to celebrate his life and tell you all what he meant to us and what he meant to you." She blinked at these words. It was more awkward than normal. She was writing from the perspective of an outsider rather than as a grieving daughter. But that was who she was, an outsider. She continued quickly.

"Bob Pataki was a good man. He was a good husband to my mother. He was a successful businessman who started out with nothing and created one of the biggest beeper stores in the city. Most importantly, he was a good father to his daughter, Olga. He loved her, encouraged her, and gave her all the encouragement and confidence that she needed to achieve her dreams. With his support, Olga was able to pursue her dream of becoming a teacher and working with underprivileged children." She paused again to gather her thoughts. Suddenly, she crumbled up the paper and put it in her pocket. Her voice started to tremble and her eyes began to well with tears.

"However, I'm not going to stand up here and say that he was good father to me because he wasn't." The crowd gave a collective gasp and began looking at each other and whispering. Helga continued forcefully.

"There were times when he called me Olga instead of Helga. There were times when he ignored me. There were times when he made me feel that nothing I did could ever measure up to his standards. There were times when I wondered, and I still wonder if he ever loved me." She paused before continuing.

"Dostoyevsky said in _The Brothers Karamazov_ that a beautiful, sacred memory preserved since childhood was the best education a person could get. I remember, one time when I was only nine, we had to spend a whole week together as part of having some quality time. We ended up seeing this horrible musical called Rats and spent the whole time laughing at how bad it was." She paused again. "And every time I questioned whether he even cared, I remembered that moment. That's what we're here for today, to remember a moment or moments when Bob Pataki touched our lives." She walked slowly down from podium and looked hard into the congregation. She still couldn't see him.

"You should quit smoking."

"It's not as if I haven't tried. Besides, it's the only thing keeping me sane." It had stopped raining momentarily. They were standing on the rooftop. Rhonda was smoking a cigarette while Nadine stared into the clouds.

"Rhonda, what happened?" Nadine stared at her seriously. Rhonda sighed.

"I don't know, Nadine. I guess it's just been building up for a while. Things weren't good from the start."

"You don't love Rex, do you?"

"No, I don't. I've tried to, but it just hasn't happened."

"So why did you marry him? You loved Harold, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. We were ready to get married. Then my parents stepped in." Nadine remained silent and Rhonda continued.

"They never liked Harold. They kept saying that he wasn't right for me, that we Lloyds didn't associate with people like him."

"So old money had to stick with old money." Nadine spoke quietly and gave Rhonda a knowing look.

"That's the gist of it." They were silent for a while. Rhonda knocked some ashes from her cigarette over the edge.

"Did you ever get that fashion gig?" Rhonda smirked.

"No, not even close. I guess that just confirmed that I was supposed to marry Rex and be another trophy on his mantel. A trophy wife that only has looks; in a few years I won't have that either."

"Don't say that, Rhonda."

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"It's not true. You're a mature, independent woman. You don't need Rex or your parent's money. You can make it on your own."

"I'm glad someone thinks so." She smiled slightly at Nadine and threw away her cigarette. She took out her remaining pack of cigarettes and threw them away as well.

"That was a good start."

Helga stood silently at the burial plot. The last of the mourners were leaving after having paid their respects. She smiled and accepted their condolences in good faith. Olga stood up after kneeling in front of the tombstone and walked over towards Helga.

"Are you all-right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Are you going to come over for the reception?" Helga paused.

"I don't think so, Olga. I mean, no offense, but..."

"None taken, baby sister. Take as much time as you need." They hugged briefly and Olga walked towards her husband and children standing near the entrance gates. Helga was now alone with her father. She walked over and stood over him.

"Well, Bob. It's just you and me now." She paused before continuing.

"I bet you're disappointed that Olga didn't give your eulogy. It's not my fault that she wanted me to. I tried to give you the best one that I could." She paused and took another deep breath.

"We never understood each other did we? I mean, we were so much alike, but we just didn't connect." She walked over and placed a small rose on his tombstone.

"Here's to the day we finally do." She turned and walked slowly away from the grave. It was starting to rain again and she didn't have an umbrella. She quickened her pace and walked towards the gate when a shadowy figure from behind the tree stepped beside her and opened a large umbrella. She jumped back in surprise.

"You never seem to carry an umbrella, do you?" He smiled kindly at her.

"Crimeny, Arnold, you scared me to death!" She breathed a sigh of relief. He chuckled.

"Sorry about that. I just didn't want to disturb you when you were paying your respects." Helga noticed that he was wearing a long, black, trench coat.

"What's with the film noir get-up?" He smiled.

"It is a funeral, Helga."

"I know, but doesn't it kind of feel like a scene from a movie?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look at us; you're dressed like the Marlowe- detective type, and I guess I'm supposed to be this blond damsel in distress. It's dark and raining, and we're in a cemetery." He chuckled.

"You know, you're right. It's like _The Big Sleep_ or _The Long Goodbye_. " They walked towards the gate.

"Are you going to your sister's place?"

"No, I don't think so." They stood silently for a while. Arnold spoke first.

"You know, Helga that was a really brave thing you did up there."

"You really think so?"

"I do. I'm sure your father's proud that you painted an honest picture. Most eulogies make the dead seem like saints." The rain began to subside and the clouds started breaking.

"It stopped raining."

"I noticed." Arnold turned to her.

"So what happens to Marlowe and the women?"

"Well, he usually buys them drinks; gimlets to be specific." Arnold laughed.

"It's kind of early for gimlets. How about coffee?"

"I'd like that, football-head."

"Hey, I thought I was Marlowe."

"You wish you were."

"Hey, I've solved my share of mysteries. Remember how I proved that Eugene was framed?" She laughed.

"Yeah. Pretty impressive." She tried not to laugh.

"I'm serious." They continued walking.

"You haven't solved the biggest mystery yet." She said quietly to herself.


	9. Panic

Author's Note: Again, thanks for your reviews. As for Lila and their son, Sean, well I know what's ultimately going to happen to them. You'll have to wait for future chapters, but it will all be there. Don't own anything but this story.

Episode 9: Panic

She breathed heavily in the cold early morning air as she continued running. All her problems would be temporarily washed away by sweat and fatigue. She paused for a moment to catch her breath and change a song on her iPod.

"Ok, Helga, a few more times around the block and you're done." She jogged in place for a bit and started running again.

"It's that time of year again." Arnold checked off some slots on the marker board.

"What do you mean?" Debbie asked lazily from the admit desk.

"Flu season."

"The panic?" Arnold nodded his head.

"This shortage of vaccines isn't helping either."

"Well, we've always had a shortage, but Chiron didn't help us very much this year."

"Tell me about it." She looked outside at the waiting room and saw a large crowd beginning to form. Elderly men and women, mothers with young children, and middle aged workers were growing restless and impatient in the cold waiting room.

"I'll get this." Arnold walked out from behind the desk and headed towards the waiting room. He was greeted by a chorus of grumbles and heated questions.

"I need a flu shot!" An old man cried waving his cane in the air.

"Yeah, my husband and I qualify; at least that's what the news says." His wife chimed in.

"Please, my baby needs a shot too. She's only nine months old." A young black mother pushed her baby girl forward.

"Watch it sister," the old man snarled. "We were here first."

"You're not getting one before my baby gets one." She shot back.

"That's the trouble with you young people, these days. You don't respect your elders."

"Hey, what about me?" A large construction worker chimed in. "I've gotten a flu shot every year. Why can't I get one this year? It's not fair."

"I'll tell you what it is." A bespectacled woman replied in a feverish tone looking up from her newspaper. "It's a government conspiracy, that's what it is. I bet they have stocks of the shots that they're just hoarding up in some warehouse, waiting for the right time to sell them at inflated prices. That's what the government does. That's why they don't release the aliens locked up in Area 51." The construction worker gave her a weird look.

"Look lady, I don't care about conspiracies or aliens. I just want a damn flu shot!" Arnold decided that he had heard enough.

"Ok, people, listen up!" They turned towards him.

"Everyone here needs to relax. Yes, there is a shortage of flu shots this year. In fact, every year, we never have as many flu shots as we would like, but we've always made it through the flu season. Now this year, it's going to be a little different. Only certain people such as the elderly over 65, young children under two years old or people with chronic health problems really need flu shots. It's been this way for years, except in the past the shortages weren't that bad. So if you fit into those categories, then you qualify for a flu shot. The important thing is for you not to panic. Please, everybody relax." The crowd started settling down. Arnold walked over towards the elderly couple.

"Now if you'll just come with me, we'll make sure you get your flu shots." He then turned towards the young mother.

"You'll be right after this couple, I promise." She nodded her head. However the construction worker remained unsettled.

"What about me?" Arnold turned towards him.

"Sir, I'm sorry you don't look like you fit one of the categories. Do you have any chronic medical problems that we should know about?"

"No, but I need to have this flu shot. Please." He pleaded in a desperate tone.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're not allowed to dispense flu shots to those that don't qualify. Besides, it is very possible that even with the flu shot that you can still get the flu."

"But the chances will be smaller?"

"Well, yes, but it is possible, if you're careful to remain healthy even without the flu shot." The man shook his head.

"You're not doing a very good job, doc. You won't be able to get that stuff past me."

"Sir, please..."

"I'm getting that shot whether it's from you or someone else!" He barged past Arnold and ran into the hallway.

"Sir!" He turned towards the elderly couple and gave them a sad smile. He ran after the man who was heading towards a locked glass cabinet.

"Excuse me, sir, what are you doing?" Nadine looked at him a bit confused.

"I'm getting a flu shot, even if I have to give it to myself."

"But sir..." Arnold walked next to her.

"It's all right, Nadine, he'll get his flu shot." The man looked at him with hopeful eyes, and Nadine looked at Arnold with shock.

"You're going to give it to me, doc?"

"Yes, I'll give you a shot. Just go into curtain room one over there and I'll be with you shortly."

"Finally, some service." He went into the room and sat on the bed. Arnold took a syringe and headed towards the sink. He filled it with water and squirted it in the air once. Nadine smiled.

"A placebo." Arnold chuckled.

"Hey, I promised to give him a shot." He pulled open the curtain and headed towards the much calmer patient.

"All right, sir, please roll up your sleeve." The man rolled up his sleeve and Arnold quickly gave him the shot. The man breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks a lot doc. I don't know what I would do without my flu shot"

"I don't know what you would do either." 

"Phoebe, we've got one coming on from the helipad." Troy turned towards Phoebe from the help desk.

"The helipad?"

"Yeah, this one is coming from a little outside the county."

"Any info on what it is?"

"Dispatch said it was some girl complaining of a strep throat and a rash." Phoebe raised an eyebrow and gave Troy a puzzled look.

"A rash and strep throat? Why are they coming here then? Couldn't their local clinic deal with this?"

"It sounded pretty urgent to me." Phoebe sighed.

"All right, then I guess we'll take it." She nodded to Sheena and they headed towards the elevator.

"Oh, and call Wartz or Gerald and tell them to get ready. Let's get a gurney ready." Troy nodded.

"So how's Eugene?"

"Oh, he's doing fine, thanks."

"No more injuries?" Sheena chuckled.

"No, not as much. Besides it wouldn't look good for his job if he kept getting hurt."

"Isn't he still doing Shakespeare in the Park?"

"No, he's selling insurance now." Phoebe chuckled.

"Somehow that seems so fitting." The elevator stopped at the rooftop. They stepped out and were greeted by powerful gusts of the cold wind. Phoebe's white coat was blowing in every direction and they struggled to walk against the winds. The helicopter was slowly descending onto the helipad.

"Are you sure that this thing is safe?" Sheena remarked as she watched the chopper sway perilously in the wind.

"Let's hope so." Phoebe remarked dryly. The chopper finally descended on the pad. The EMT's swung the door open and carried out the young girl stretched out on a stretcher.

"Ok, let's get her on the gurney!" Phoebe yelled above the noisy chopper. "One, Two, Three, move!" They moved her onto the gurney. The young girl was around thirteen years old. She was feverish and was in a state of shock. She also had some purple skin discolorations around the right leg along with evidence of swelling and warmth. There was also a foul smelling odor emanating from the site of her leg.

"What do we have here?" Sheena asked loudly. 

"Thirteen year old girl has strep throat but then ends up with these weird lesions on her legs. Purple looking and smells god-awful." Phoebe squinted closely at the swelling on her legs.

"No, no, it can't be." She said to herself.

"Dr. Heyerdahl?" Sheena called. Phoebe snapped out of it.

"Ok, this doesn't look good. You say she had strep?"

"Yeah, she was almost over it, according to her parents, and then these lesions start showing up on her legs."

"Ok, let's get an IV with saline. Is she allergic to penicillin?"

"I don't think so, her parents didn't say."

"Ok, IV of penicillin, impenem, and sulbactam. We need to get her to surgery ASAP." Sheena started inserting the IV's in. Phoebe continued.

"We need to get her to surgery right now. It looks like she's developed necrotizing fasciitis from the strep she had.

"Flesh-eating bacteria?"

"I'm afraid so. Let's move it!" They wheeled the gurney toward the elevator and quickly ran in as the doors closed behind them.

"Nice of you to drop in." Arnold looked up as Helga walked in.

"You miss me?"

"Of course."

"Glad to hear." He smiled.

"Busy so far?" She asked as she put on her white coat.

"Just a lot of flu shots and one placebo shot." Helga laughed.

"You used water?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"It's the oldest trick in the book, football-head."

"Hey, it still took a certain level of skill and poise to pull this off. This guy was not an easy character."

"Just keep telling yourself that."

"I will."

"Dr. Greene?" Nadine called, walking from curtain room 2.

"Yeah."

"There's a young boy who I think has a case of pneumonia." She handed him the chart and Arnold took it without even looking at it.

"Ok, Nadine, I'll take a look at him."

"He's displayed the usual symptoms; fever, cough, some chest pains. His breathing was very labored so I got him started on oxygen as a precaution."

"Ok, that's good Nadine." He walked towards the curtain and pulled it open.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Gr... short-man?" Arnold stepped back in shock. There lying on the examining table was his son looking very tired. He gave his father a tired smile. Sitting beside him was his mother, dressed surprisingly conservatively. Arnold turned to her.

"Why didn't you take him to Dr. Bailey?"

"I did, but he told me to take him here just to make sure that there wasn't anything seriously wrong." She replied very matter-of factly.

"Did you tell Nadine not to tell me that it was Sean?"

"Just keeping you on your toes, doctor." Arnold shook his head, wiped his brow, and sat down on the bed.

"Well short-man, I wish I didn't have to see you like this." He held his son's hand for a while.

"Am I going to be all right, daddy?"

"Yeah, short-man, you should be fine." Nadine entered the room and gave an apologetic grin. Arnold waved it off.

"Ok, short-man, we're going to have to do some tests on you first." He turned towards Nadine.

"Why don't we get a chest x-ray, CBC, and blood cultures? Also, let's get him started on levofloxacin and macrolide for when he leaves." He turned back to his son.

"Ok short-man, Nadine is going to take you to get some tests done to make sure that you're ok. If the tests come out right, then we'll give you some medicine here and more to take when you get home."

"Do I have to stay here?"

"I don't think so, short-man. I think you'll be able to go home with your mother. You'll just have to get plenty of rest, drink your fluids, and take your meds." He kissed his son's forehead.

"I'll see you later, short-man."

"Bye, daddy." Nadine wheeled the bed away towards x-ray, leaving Arnold and Lila standing in the room. An awkward silence pervaded the room.

"Well."

"Well."

"You want to sit down somewhere?"

"That would be nice." They walked slowly towards the waiting room, hands swaying, close but not touching. Arnold sat down first.

"So how's he doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, how's he handling the fact that his parents don't live together anymore?"

"He seems ok to me. I mean he was sad in the beginning but he's getting used to it." Arnold looked at her with a pained expression. She realized that she had hurt him and put her hand on his in a comforting gesture.

"I'm sorry Arnold. I didn't mean it like that. Of course he missed you, but it's important that he learns to live with us being separated."

"Yeah, I know." He gave her a small smile and she squeezed his hand a couple of times.

"We need to get him into surgery right now." Wartz barked.

"Do you know what you're doing, Vince?" He gave Phoebe an incredulous look.

"Of course, I do Phoebe."

"We've never faced a flesh-eating bacteria case before."

"It's in the textbooks."

"This isn't a textbook."

"Can I but in or is this a private conversation?" Wartz and Phoebe looked up and saw Gerald standing in front of them.

"I'm sorry, Gerald, of course." Gerald cleared his throat.

"There's another option, one that we haven't discussed."

"And that would be?"

"We could use the hyperbaric oxygen chamber." Wartz raised an eyebrow.

"That's only used for treating wounds. Besides, it's not really an accepted practice."

"Massachusetts General Hospital used hyperbaric oxygen to treat a case very similar to ours; saved the young boy's legs from being amputated." Wartz rubbed his chin.

"It's too much of a risk."

"I'm telling you, that it's been done before."

"It could be too dangerous."

"We have to resist the urge to cut, Vince." Wartz took two steps forward so that his face was inches away from Gerald's.

"What are you implying, Johanssen?" He hissed.

"Nothing, Vince. I'm saying that sometimes some surgeons have a predisposition towards cutting when there are possible non-invasive options." Phoebe decided that it was time to step in.

"Ok, that's enough. This is not helping our patient." They were silent for a while. Phoebe continued.

"I'm going to make a decision as chief of this ER. We're going to use the oxygen therapy." Wartz's eyes lit up.

"I am a director of the hospital, Phoebe. Technically I could have you reprimanded for this."

"I'll take full responsibility for what happens, Vince. Any liability, any repercussions, you can place on my shoulders." He smirked.

"Fine with me then." He stormed off leaving Phoebe and Gerald alone.

"Nadine, was that Lila who came in?" Helga looked up from the desk.

"Yeah, she brought in their son. He's caught pneumonia."

"Ouch."

"It's unfortunate."

"Is he still in curtain room 2?"

"Yeah, he just got back from X-Ray." Helga walked out from behind the desk and headed towards the room. She pulled the curtain open to find Sean resting comfortably in the bed. His eyes brightened when he saw her.

"Hi, Helga." He smiled tiredly at her.

"Hey, kiddo. You don't have to talk much; I know you're tired." She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't want to have to take all these medicines." Helga smiled and patted his hand.

"Well kiddo, these medicines are going to make you feel better. You're lucky your case wasn't as bad."

"I hope I get better before Christmas." He was starting to doze off. Helga smiled and squeezed his hand.

"You will kiddo. Now just get some sleep." She stood up to leave and he fell into a deep sleep with a smile on his face. She walked out of the room and pulled the curtain shut.

"Hey Nadine, do you know where Arnold is?"

"He should be around here somewhere, but I'm not exactly sure." Helga started walking around and stopped at the waiting room. He was sitting there with Lila, hands intertwined and engaged in meaningful conversation. Helga felt her pulse shoot up and she took a deep breath.

"Ok Helga, don't get too worked up. They're divorced, remember."

"Can you explain to us how this procedure works again?" The girl's father scratched his head.

"Of course, Mr. Kaline." Phoebe responded patiently. "What we're going to do is put Jamie in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber which is a pressurized chamber full of one-hundred percent oxygen. The oxygen will react with the bacteria producing free radicals. Free radicals are chemically unstable and will start to break apart upon formation. That's how the oxygen will destroy the bacteria."

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

"I can't guarantee anything. I can only tell you that it's been done before at one of the best hospitals in the United States. I can also tell you that if this procedure works, Jamie will be able to continue her softball career as opposed to potentially being an amputee." He took a deep breath.

"We're willing to take the chance."

"And we're going to do everything that we can to make sure it works."

Arnold sighed as he walked back from the waiting room. Sean had just been discharged from the hospital and he was going back with his mother. He walked behind the desk and signed off a few charts that were left for him. He massaged his temples and walked towards the lounge. As he entered he noticed Helga sitting quietly at the round table.

"Hey, are you all right?" He asked in a concerned tone.

"Yeah I'm just tired, that's all." He put his white lab coat in his locker, removed his stethoscope and sat down next to her.

"Guess that makes the two of us, then."

"So how's Lila?"

"She's doing fine. Almost too fine it seems."

"What does that mean?"

"Well she's seeing someone; that partner in her firm. The one she had the fling with." Helga was silent.

"Oh."

"It's like we weren't even married; she just went from me to him like I wasn't there."

"She doesn't realize what she's lost." Helga looked at him intently. Inside she was rejoicing. He smiled.

"I'm glad somebody thinks that." He continued.

"You know, I probably sound really childish, but for some reason, I was holding on to the notion that Lila and I would end up getting back together, even after the divorce. In the back of my mind I thought we would end up working things out."

"It's all right to think that. I guess that everybody has things that they don't want to get rid of; sometimes we hold on to them for so long that it becomes a part of who we are." They sat quietly for a while, two people holding on to seemingly lost dreams.


End file.
